Full Disclosure
by Thousand Faces
Summary: He risked everything to get back to his family. Now Cobb's faced with risking it all again to protect them or refusing and losing everything. Of course, there's a third option. But Arthur doesn't approve and the job is going to get far too interesting.
1. Open for Discussion

Disclaimer: If I owned Inception, I would be a bloody genius. A terrifically happy and wealthy bloody genius. But I am none of those things. So shouldn't you be pitying me rather than suing me? I think we all know the answer.

A/N: It's been such a long time since I posted that I actually forgot to do this! Forgive me, readers, forgive me. Nothing much to say in this chapter - it's meant to wet your whistle for the mind-bending fun to come. Who's talking in this chapter? Why, I guess I'm not entirely sure...

R&R, and if nothing else, please enjoy,

Thousand Faces

_Reality is a highly overrated concept._

_In the same way that 'right' and 'wrong' are oversimplified nominations for a much more complex procedure of an individual mentally processing events, reality actually depends on your point of view. The same goes for truth. And justice. Success. Failure. And love._

_Perhaps love more than most. Who can define love? We can only define what it means for us, for the individual mind – to each person it is a different shape, with different edges, fault lines, and consistencies. _

_Reality is the same way. You and I both believe in 'reality'. But who's to say yours is the same as mine? Who's to say one is more real than the other?_

_Frankly, it all comes down to what you believe. Do you believe in reality, or justice, or failure, or love? And how deep does that belief go? How personally invested are you in that belief?_

_Only when that belief becomes your reality can it be shared with another. It has to be embraced at every level. _

_Which requires a bit of a risk because…well…what if you're wrong?_

_Of course, 'right' and 'wrong' are all in the mind, as already stated. That's what makes them so important. The mind determines the reality in which it exists. But each of us has to choose whether to subscribe to it or not. You don't __have__ to __believe__ it. As long as your prepared to face the long darkness of unreality alone._

_Most people aren't. It's rather tiring and yes, that's speaking from personal experience. Most succumb. Or go insane. I've only been insane once, it wasn't fun._

_What am I trying to tell you? I guess…I guess I'm trying to say that as overrated as reality is, as flimsy a word and unfathomable a concept…it's all that we got. _

_So we might as well have fun with it, yeah?_


	2. The Visitors

Disclaimer: I only own Inception and the characters in my dreams. Which, as far as it goes, is amusing, but not profitable.

A/N: For those of you wanting a bit more context for this story than you get in the summary, this fic is gonna involve all of our favorite characters from the film, one or two new ones, and romances are going to bloom – but the course of true love never did run smooth and neither does crime.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Thousand Faces

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The sun shined down on the modest California ranch house, ping-ponging its way through the leaves of the oak trees lining the property, casting a strange quilt-work of light on Arthur's light tan jacket.

He lifted his finger off the doorbell, taking a step back off the porch and onto the steps, craning his head up and around so he could admire the subtle tans and browns of the wood work. He had only been to Cobb's house once before, just after he and Mal had first moved there. They wanted a place away from the city, some place quiet and open, with plenty of space for James and Phillipa to grow up. Arthur couldn't help but think, even after all this time, how strange it was to be here when Mal wasn't. The air seemed a little colder, the woods a little too quiet – there was a tension in the wind and he would've given anything to hear a couple of cars drive past.

His thoughts would have continued in this somber vein if Dominic Cobb hadn't finally opened the door. The smile fluttered to Arthur's lips, a mixture of relief and warmth finding itself in his eyes, his hand stretching out towards his host. "Dom, hey."

Cobb's hands clasped his warmly, greeting him with a rare smile. "Arthur! Come on in." Cobb pulled Arthur gently into the house's entryway, closing the door behind them with a quick glance outside. "How was the flight? Bearable?"

"Just fine, thanks." Arthur shrugged the leather jacket off smoothly, hanging it on the hooks by the door before turning back to face Cobb, adjusting his cuffs slightly. "Managed to get a seat in first class, despite the short notice." His anxious hands burrowed into his pants pockets. "You sounded pretty serious over the phone, is everything alright?"

Cobb took a deep breath in, one hand slipping into his pocket automatically. He looked off into nothing, his brow furrowing, his fingers fiddling with the top as he breathed out slowly. "Honestly? Not as well as I'd like it to be."

With a slight jolt he seemed to remember himself, taking in Arthur's concerned, expectant glance before smiling and lifting a hand up to his friend's shoulder. "I appreciate you coming, I know you're busy."

Arthur shrugged good naturedly, his signature half-smile slipping cross his face. "It's my pleasure; I was getting bored of Hong Kong anyway."

Cobb chuckled quietly, turning and walking down the hallway with a jerk of his head. "Well don't stand there like a stranger – come on, I'll make us some drinks."

Arthur followed him, conscious of the sound of his own leather soled shoes tapping lightly against the hardwood, echoing behind him as the sound of laughter bounced towards him from the front.

He leaned against the island in the kitchen, fingers tapping out a complicated tattoo as his mind followed his eyes' wandering path. Out in the backyard James and Phillipa were playing some sort of complicated make-believe. From what he could tell, James didn't like taking direction from his older sister. He sat pouting in the grass as the precocious Phillipa was giving him some kind of lecture on the rules. Far in the background, under the shade of some trees, sat Professor Miles, sipping some lemonade and laughing, apparently to himself.

The sound of a glass tapping marble countertop grabbed Arthur's attention, but not his gaze. He took the drink with a nod, sipping his usual gin and tonic on the rocks with a contemplative air. He tossed his head towards the scene beyond the sliding glass door. "Looks like quite the family scene."

"It certainly is," Cobb sighed, leaning against the opposite side of the counter with his elbows, hands clasping together in front of him, a barely suppressed smile on his otherwise serious face. "It's everything I ever wanted – I just wish Mal was here to see it."

Arthur nodded, slipping onto a stool gracefully, one foot coming up to rest on the rung. He took a long drink, enjoying the sweet burn in the back of his throat before asking the question he flew over seven thousand miles to ask. "So, what is it? What's wrong?"

Cobb didn't speak for a long time, seemingly content to watch the bubbles rising in his whiskey and soda, fingers lacing and unlacing themselves. Arthur knew better than to push for an answer, nursing what was left of his brandy while he waited.

"Two days ago, a man came to the house…"

Gravel crunched in the driveway outside, but Cobb didn't look up. It'd been a problem the first few months, but gradually he'd been able to train himself to not jump at every shadow, to avoid staring at every strange passerby, and to stop waking up to sounds in the middle of the night.

So when he heard the doorbell ring, he didn't think it was anyone more threatening than a delivery man or a driver who'd gotten lost. He didn't bother to look out the front window. If he had he might have noticed the armored sedan with tinted windows parked in the drive, or the two muscle-bound suits walking the perimeter with their hands resting suspiciously in their jacket pockets. But he didn't notice this, because he didn't look out the window. And so he did make the very big mistake of opening his door to one, Rafe Toporak

When you're an extractor, you learn to read people pretty well. Cobb only had to look in Rafe Toporak's apple green eyes, deep set in his dark tan face, to know exactly how deep in trouble he was.

"Can I help you?" Cobb kept his voice as even as possible, wedging his body in between the door and its frame.

Toporak finished tucking his sunglasses into his jacket pocket with a grin, looking out from under his brow and into Cobb's face. "I certainly hope so, Mr. Cobb. I've come quite a ways to meet you." He pulled his gloves off slowly, never taking his eyes off Cobb's face, staring him down. "I always think business should be handled in person." He laughed suddenly, a high pitched bark, throwing his head back and his hands in his pockets. "I guess you could say I'm a little old fashioned."

Cobb returned his smile, as empty as it was, but remained unmoved, one hand resting firmly on the door. "I guess you could. But I'm not exactly sure what business we have together, Mr.…?"

"Rafe Toporak," he didn't bother offering his hand, his expression completely unchanged, his gaze horrifically steady, "and we have only the most serious business together, Mr. Cobb. But first," He shifted his weight slowly, leaning forward ever so slightly, the smell of his expensive cologne filling Cobb's senses with an uncomfortable sticky scent, "I need to ask you a very important question."

Cobb's laugh stuck in his throat, but it still managed to sound sincere. "Look, Mr. Toporak, I think you have the wrong house–"

"Do you love your children, Mr. Cobb?"

Cobb ceased all movement. His expression, as it often did in such situations went blank. Yet careful as he was to hide any emotion, even he could hear the shift in his voice. "Excuse me?"

"Do you love your children?" Toporak was still smiling, open-mouthed, eyes wide and unblinking. "I sincerely hope you do, because I very much look forward to watching you cry over their dead, mangled bodies."

Cobb's grip on the door tightened, but his face he hoped, revealed none of his desires.

Toporak's smile widened, a hand coming out of his pocket, gesturing as he spoke. "Unless, of course, you'd like to invite me in to discuss our business?"

Wordlessly, but smoothly, Cobb stepped away from the door, holding it open for his unwelcome guest. A nod was Toporak's only answer as he slid inside, his expensive silk suit brushing quietly against the woodwork. He made his way down the corridor without an invitation, leaving Cobb at the door to examine the situation outside. The two men remained by the car, shifting calmly from foot to foot, their stances taut.

Cobb closed the door softly. He heard some clinking in the direction of the kitchen and slowly made his way to that part of the house. When he entered, Toporak was helping himself to a glass of wine. The best wine, Cobb noted with a raise of his brow. A raise that did not go unnoticed by the man opposite. Toporak gestured to his full glass with a look of concern. "I trust you do not object?"

"Of course not," Cobb crossed his arms over his chest, walking towards the counter as if he was in little hurry. "I expect every man who threatens my family to help himself to a drink."

At this, Toporak laughed again. It was a laugh Cobb was sure he could learn to hate. In fact, he was half way there already. "Forgive me, but I'm sure you understand. It was necessary for me to illustrate how seriously I take my business transactions. And I assure you," he paused to take a sip of the white he had selected, closing his eyes as he savored it, "I fully intend to proceed in such a manner if I am unsatisfied with our transaction. Nothing personal of course!" The sickeningly toothy smile returned as he examined Cobb through half-lidded eyes. "I have only the highest respect for you and what you do. Or else I wouldn't be here enjoying your very fine wine. Extraction isn't a crime -" He lifted his glass in Cobb's direction with a flourish. "– it's an art. Especially the way you do it."

"If this is about a job," Cobb rested a hand on the counter, leaning in on it slightly, "I'm afraid I can't help you. I've been out of the game for a year now and I'm not looking to get back in."

"So I've heard." Toporak sat down smoothly on the nearest stool, swirling the wine in his glass. "The great Dominic Cobb – retired! Well, I have some good news for you: I have no desire to pull you out of retirement." He gestured with his free hand up and down in Cobb's direction. "Not when it obviously suits you so well!"

"Then how can I help you, Mr. Toporak?"

Toporak watched him evenly over the rim of his glass, head falling slightly to one side. "Haven't you guessed yet?"

Cobb pushed himself off the counter, the hand still in his pocket clenching tightly. "No, I'm afraid not."

Toporak leaned back, adjusting his cuff links as his smile took on a half moon shape. "Well, it's inception, Mr. Cobb. I want it."


	3. An Indecent Proposal

**A/N: Thanks to all who read, reviewed, favorited, or otherwise showed their appreciation for my work! There is plenty more to Cobb because Inception has invaded my mind, taken root, and suddenly I'm having all these weird and wonderful ideas… ;-) And I'd just love to share 'em all with you and hear what you think! So please, feel free to review with any thoughts or opinions! **

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"Inception." Cobb forced a laugh, shaking his head from side to side. "Are you serious?"

There was a pregnant pause from Toporak, his glass frozen half-way up to his lips which were pressed thin together. His brows dipped over his bright green eyes as he stared at Cobb. "Always."

Cobb took a breath, meeting the intruder's gaze, gauging his next move carefully in lieu of this comment. He perched himself on the edge of the stool opposite Toporak, pitching his gaze around the room lazily. "Mr. Toporak…what can I say? I'm flattered. Really. Flattered, that you think I'm that good. But, uh, I'm afraid someone's been spinning you stories if you think–"

"If I think you can perform inception, yes." Toporak placed his glass on the countertop with a heavy sigh, as if the thin crystal vessel's weight had been immense. "Honestly, Mr. Cobb, I never would've expected this kind of childish behavior from a man like you. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't –" he paused as he took a clean white handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his brow "– terribly disappointed."

Cobb leaned back, crossing his legs slowly while making sure not to blink.

Toporak tucked the cloth into the breast pocket of his Gucci suit jacket. He leaned his elbow on the counter, hand gesturing in fluid circles. "I had thought, _hoped _that you were capable of judging a man's character quickly. Now, either you haven't made the effort to judge me at all –" the hand that had been busy with the handkerchief gripped at his chest as if he'd been wounded "– or, you have simply made a gross error in your final judgment of my person."

All movement on his part suddenly stopped, his eyes flat and glassy under the waning sunlight coming through the kitchen window. "Do I look like the sort of man who would make a trip half-way around the world based on a few stories? Do I look like the sort of man who doesn't do his homework? Who doesn't know everything about you that there is to know, including the fact that by rights, you shouldn't really be here, sitting comfortably in your own house. That where you should be is in a six by eight cell, contemplating a life time spent separated from your children. Yet…" Toporak nodded slowly, mouth widening slightly, "…here you are. Which is a miracle. Who would let such a miracle go unexplained?"

Toporak leaned back, flinging his arms melodramatically, his head shaking vigorously from side to side. "No. No, Mr. Cobb, I am not that sort of man." His hands dropped to his sides, his voice a cheery monotone. "I know of the services you preformed for Mr. Saito and his company. I know the grand success you had with your little project. What I don't know," Toporak's tan finger wiggled playfully in the air, a twisted smile on his face, "is how. This is all I want from you."

It was obviously pointless to attempt to lie. In fact, if Cobb's judgment of the man across from him was correct, it would be dangerous to deny anything at this point. His response came slowly, each word delivered with measured intonation. "Well, Mr. Toporak, if you want how, I'm going to need to know why."

Toporak's smile shrank slightly, his head once more listing to one side. "Why?"

"Why do you want to know how to perform inception?"

Toporak picked up his abandoned glass lightly, fingers sliding over the stem as if he was trying to remember what it felt like. "So many reasons. The most primary of which, I don't mind telling you, is money." His plump lips wrapped round the rim of the glass. "You and I are in the same business, Mr. Cobb. As a matter of fact I've already acquired several clients who are very, very interested in this particular service. Clients who are willing to pay a considerable amount of money for a chance to change the world in their favor."

Cobb slipped a hand into his pants pocket, toying with the top he found there. "Changing the world is a dangerous business, Mr. Toporak. Sometimes you can't predict who it's going to fall in on afterwards."

Toporak finished off his glass of wine with a flourish, closing his eyes as he savored the mouthful. Swallowing, glass still held up in his hand, he stood up, throwing a glance down at Cobb as he rose. "That is a risk I am more than willing to take." He walked aimlessly over to the sink, depositing his glass in the recess calmly, looking out the window over the wide backyard. "Naturally I don't expect to receive and understand all the intricacies here and now! I think a month should be sufficient time for you to gather all the materials and information I will need, write up a report with the necessary instructions, et cetra, et cetra?"

Cobb watched Toporak at the window, his back turned, his stance erect and self-assured. Cobb shifted his weight, allowing his feet to drop to the floor. "I'm curious: what makes you think I'm going to do any of the things you just proposed?"

Toporak leaned forward, wiping an invisible mote of dust off the windowpane in front of him. "I don't think, Mr. Cobb. I know. I know that you aren't going to let anything untoward happen to your newly restored family. Nor do I think you are willing to uproot their lives to run; after all Phillipa has dance lessons with Mrs. Terron to get to. And James is so looking forward to starting Kindergarten in just a little while." He threw a glance over his shoulder. "I'm not a violent man, Mr. Cobb, but I know quite a lot of people who are. They love to play with children, in fact – they specialize in such things."

The air in the kitchen was hot and stagnant. Neither man moved and the only sound that was heard was the steady ticking of the clock on the far wall, slicing away seconds.

"I don't suppose I really have a choice at this point."

Cobb heard Toporak laugh; low, rough, quiet and genuine laugh. Cobb didn't like it one bit. "No, you really don't."

Toporak turned smartly on his heel, teeth gleaming from under dark lips. "I'll be having a little celebration at the end of this month, at the Hotel Corinthia in Prague." He began walking towards the door, the heels of his five hundred dollar shoes clicking brightly against the hardwood. "Bring everything there, it'll be simpler." As he passed by Cobb, still sitting stoically at the counter, his hand fell heavily on the other man's shoulder. "Be sure to give James and Phillipa my love, won't you? I hope, for all our sakes, that I won't be seeing them soon."

Cobb didn't turn to watch his guest leave. He listened as his steps receded down the hall. His shoulders dropped when he heard the door open and shut. And as the sound of a car pulling out of his gravel driveway slowly dissipated, he took the top out of his pocket and spun it on the counter, watching it gravely.

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"And he left. Just like that?"

Cobb finished the last of his whiskey and soda, standing up to refill his glass. "Just like that. And then I called you."

Arthur pushed his almost full drink away from him, leaning against the counter heavily. "What are you going to do, Dom?"


	4. Cherchez la Femme

**A/N: Sorry for the slight delay with this chapter! My summer quarter is wrapping up and with that joyous occasion comes the nasty side effects of major projects, papers, and other nasty beasts that I must defeat :-P Once again, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed, read, favorite, alerted, or gave feedback of any other kind! You can't imagine how much it's appreciated. If you have yet to let me know how you feel about this fic, good, bad, indifferent, feel free to drop me a line!**

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Cobb kept his back turned to Arthur, going through the motions of mixing his drink. As his hands reached first for some ice, then for the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, Arthur noticed Cobb's gaze was directed straight forward, as if the answer was written on the blank wall in front of him. "When we did what we did, I knew that there would be consequences. You can't just change the world like that and hope no one notices." Cobb gave the lid of the bottle a spin with one hand, sighing deeply, his shoulders falling gently. "Inception opened up a Pandora's box of new possibilities, new ways of controlling things, and new ways of shifting power. Those kinds of possibilities are attractive to all sorts of people, rarely people with good intentions." Cobb turned, gripping the counter beyond him, keeping his eyes trained on the tiled floor beneath his feet, eyes widening as his conviction grew. "But I did this – I rubbed the lamp and let the genie out of the bottle and I can't just walk away from it. Even if I want to. And I'm not about to let some psychopath like Toporak get his hands on it."

Arthur smiled wide, the left corner of his mouth curling up impishly as he settled more comfortably into his chair, relaxing almost instantly. "I'm in."

Cobb looked up sharply, almost jumping at the recognition that Arthur was still in the room with him, that he wasn't working this out alone in his own head. His blue eyes narrowed in confusion, but he smiled good naturedly. "You're in?" Arthur declined to answer, taking a generous swallow from his glass. Cobb ran a hand through his hair, keeping eye contact but laughing quietly. "You're in what; I still have no idea what I'm going to do."

Arthur extended his forefinger from around the glass he was holding. "You'll think of something. And when you do, I'm in." He leaned in conspiratorially, resting his upper arms on the counter. "Have I ever let you do a job on your own?"

Cobb shook his head from side to side as he reached behind him, picking up his glass carefully. "Not since I first started. Not since Belize."

Arthur stood up in one fluid motion, taking his drink with him as he began pacing. Moving always helped him think. He had gotten himself through advanced quantum physics that way – nearly wore out the rug in his apartment, but the passing grade was well worth it. "Okay, so we've got a month. That's not a whole lot of time."

Cobb walked forward, resuming his seat on the other side of the counter. "I was thinking we might want to get back to basics with this one."

"Extraction?"

"A man this bad, he has to have a store-house full of dirty little secrets." Cobb spread his hands out over the counter, as if it the secret he needed was laying just beneath the surface. His gaze was fixed and intense and he was thinking as fast as he was talking. "There's something in his mind that he doesn't want anybody to know. We dig deep enough, we might be able to dig up something to make him back off. For good." A particularly loud trill of laughter from outside caught his attention momentarily. As he looked out the window his hand clenched his still full glass. "Whatever we do we have to do it fast. It has to be simple, easy to implement – and I can't be involved."

Arthur turned neatly on his heel as he stopped, his glass coming abruptly down from his still dry lips. "What?"

Cobb avoided his eyes expertly, staring into the amber recesses of his drink. "I can't do it, Arthur. I made a promise when I got stateside. I can't risk the life I have here. If something happened – I can't put the kids through that." He looked up from under his hooded eyes, smile taking on a tint of bitterness. "And this is going to get plenty risky." He sat up straight, pulling his shoulders back as he pointedly asked, "You think you could handle my job and yours?"

Arthur was normally very good at controlling his emotions – he'd made a whole career based on this simple talent. But even he couldn't suppress the nervous laughter the suggestion elicited. "Ah, ha! Cobb, you know I'm not one for false modesty, so believe me when I say no. No way. I'm a point man, that's what I do." Arthur stepped into the living room, perching himself on the arm of an easy chair. He gestured towards Cobb broadly with his empty hand. "Extraction, that's always been your area of expertise."

Cobb breathed out through his nose, leaning his upper body on the counter. "Well, we better find somebody else just as expert."

"You got anybody in mind?"

"It has to be somebody with considerable experience." Cobb took a moment to gather his thoughts, eyes drifting heavenwards as he remembered his previously considered criteria. "Somebody who knows the business inside and out. Above all, someone we can trust to do whatever it takes. This is my family at stake, we can't play around" His eyes flickered down to meet Arthur's. "To be honest, I was thinking of Mo."

At first, Arthur's expression was blank. It was like he hadn't even heard Cobb speak. He didn't move a muscle, a statue sitting languidly on Cobb's furniture. After a few tense moments he took a slow, deep breath in, his dark brown eyes widening ever so slightly. "Tell me you're joking."

Cobb's voice was carefully pitched to be especially soothing. "Arthur–"

"Tell me you're joking!" Arthur was standing stock straight, his mostly empty glass perched perilously in his fingertips. "Mo! Cobb, you can't be serious!"

Cobb waved a hand up in his defense, replying firmly, "She's good! She's one of the best, you can't deny it!"

If Arthur was a cat he would have been bristling all over. Under different circumstances, Cobb would be trying not to smile at his friend's obvious distress. "Like hell I can't! But you know what?" Arthur moved forward towards the counter purposefully, nearly slamming the glass down in his annoyance. "I don't have to. She's out, Cobb. She's been out for almost three years now."

"Sounds like she'd be ready to get back in, don't you think?"

They were momentarily interrupted by the entrance of James and Phillipa, running barefoot into the house with their grandfather following slowly, smiling with paternal pride. The three disappeared down the hallway as quickly as they came, but both men waited an extra beat before continuing.

Arthur rolled his shoulders with a frustrated sigh, shaking his head slightly. "Cobb, trust me – forget about her. She dropped off-grid. No one has heard from her since she left." He shrugged, but there was no sadness in it. "I don't think she wants to be found."

"Who?"

The question surprised them both. Miles stood in the door frame that connected the wide living area to the rest of the house, his hands resting gently in his pockets, expression open and curious. Cobb leaned back on his chair as he addressed him. "Mosi Doust, do you remember her?"

Miles face lit up slightly, a smile breaking through as he chuckled. "Remember her? How could I forget!" Resting against the frame he waggled a finger in an amused sort of way. "You know, we still exchange Christmas cards every year? I've never had a student so devoted that never even finished a single semester of my class."

Arthur tried hard to contain his appall, exchanging a significant look with the sickeningly smug looking Cobb. Cobb turned back to Miles with an innocent smile. "Miles, you wouldn't happen to have her last address, would you?"

Looking slightly surprised by the request, Miles took a moment to consider. "I think so. Why?"

Arthur placed his hands flat on the counter, leaning against them as if in pain. "She'll never say yes."

Cobb shrugged nonchalantly, downing the rest of his drink. "I guess we won't know 'til we ask."


	5. Observation

**A/N: Summer quarter is officially over, thank the great spaghetti god! It feels so good to be done and I'm hoping those good feelings will translate into some super special awesome writing for this fic. Thanks again for everyone who gave some feedback on the last chapters – in whatever shape or form, it is very very much appreciated. If you have yet to let me know how you feel about my work, good, bad, indifferent, feel free to drop me a line! I'd love to hear how I can continue to please and fulfill your fanfic needs ;-)**

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Mosi Doust was bored. Bored and depressed. She was bored and depressed and really second guessing her life choices

Which was never a good thing.

Once she started second guessing her life choices, serious consideration had to be given to what those life choices were, the circumstances surrounding them, and the things that preceded them.

All of which inevitably led to some form of self-reflection. Again, never a good thing.

She blamed London. England as well. No, she blamed the whole northern hemisphere. She wound a piece of seal brown hair around her finger as she considered the insanity of her next thought.

She actually missed Cape Town.

At least there they had proper weather. March was a time when that earthy, wet, uniquely African smell was just beginning to fade from the air as the thunderstorms slowly dissipated. The breezes were mild, days warm, and nights balmy. How many times had she been bored there, rocking herself into a restless sleep in the hammock outside her house, dreaming of being anywhere else but home, the tips of her fingers trailing languorously in the tall grass as she made pictures out of the few stars she could see?

Now she was trapped in a dingy flat in Croydon; sprawled across her bed, the tips of her hair brushing against the thinly carpeted concrete floor since her head was dangling off the edge of her indecently tiny bed. Her bare feet beat a funeral dirge against her window.

She lifted her head up slowly, moving her feet to the edges of the pane so she could look out, hopeful she might see a ray of color or sun.

But no; it was raining outside and grey. Surprise, surprise.

Her head fell heavily back in its previous position as she sighed, almost growled, to herself. London had been a mistake, that much was obvious… but for all this time she had grinned and bore it, how could she stop now?

All the blood had drained to her head.

Mosi rolled off the bed with a complete lack of grace, her head, hip, and kneecap smacking against the hard floor simultaneously. She groaned half-heartedly, face smooshed into the beige carpet which, she now determined, tasted like old cigarettes and moldy beer.

"Jess? You okay?"

Mosi's misty blue eyes rolled back into her head for a moment before she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She had forgotten her flatmate was home.

"I'm fine, Aubrey, thanks!"

There was a long silence from the other end of the flat. With a depreciative shake of her head, Mosi considered how anyone as dumb as Aubrey Jenkins could make the obscene amount of money she did. Mosi could almost hear the gears turning in the poor girl's head as she considered what to say next.

"I thought I heard a 'thud' or something!"

Yes. The girl had exclaimed it. Aubrey was that excited about her observation.

Mosi got to her feet, brushing off her baggy purple jumper before shouting back, "Yes, I heard that too! Someone upstairs must have dropped something."

Mosi waited a beat, curious whether a reply would be forthcoming. She took Aubrey's silence to mean that either the sentences had been too complicated for her to understand, or she had accepted the explanation, despite the fact that there was no upstairs; they were on the top floor.

The rain continued to fall with sickening consistency. Mosi stood still in the middle of her truly depressing room, listening to the patter on the roof and the sudden blast of pop music from the living room (Cher, she gathered quickly), and tried, for the thousandth time since she had arrived three years ago, to stalwartly resign herself to this new life she had chosen.

For a brief moment, she wanted to cry. But it passed as it always had since she was sixteen.

The twenty-six year old version of herself considered her options at this point. She had a little stockpile of money, hidden away in some bank accounts under yet another pseudonym. But she'd been saving that for a…

She glared outside the window and refused to give in to the clichéd phrase. The bank was out. That was her nest egg and as miserable as she was, she'd seen things get a lot worse. Besides, moving around was dangerous. It required a paper trail; as careful as she was, she knew firsthand how easy it was to track someone via their globe-trotting. This was, of course, out of the question as her intent, she reminded herself, had been to drop off the grid.

She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her arms at the thought; unconsciously processing the failure of the flat's heating system as an emotionally encouraged shiver.

She missed it. She missed the dreams, the danger, the illegality of it all. She missed the lifestyle. She missed the people she used to work with, and, maybe more than anything, she missed the control.

Her frown deepened. She had lost it and that was that. She couldn't risk it, couldn't risk certain things…coming out.

She was out. That part of her life was finished, done. That was the decision she had made and she had to stick to it. Now, it was absolutely, positively necessary that she get all. the. way. out.

Hence, the cheap flat in Croydon, the fake name, and the forced sedentary lifestyle.

Ugh. Sedentary. Just the word made her want to heave. Sedentary. It sounded too much like stagnant. Things rotting away in the ground. Death.

She wasn't a fan of death.

While her conscious mind was dwelling on linguistic associations, her unconscious mind, knowing, as always, what was best, had gotten her out of her jumper and sweatpants and was putting her into a long sleeved black shirt and tight black jeans. It wasn't until she was pulling on her hooded jacket and walking down the hallway that her subconscious filled her in.

"I'm going out!" she called as she reached the front door, fumbling with her coat

"You got a date or something?"

Mosi half smiled, zipping up the grey jacket with a snap. "Nooit, chine! Just need a walk around is all. If anyone calls for me, tell them I'm in Piccadilly, alright?"

When Aubrey heard a knock on the flat's door a couple hours later, she was understandably confused. Usually when 'Jess' left for the Circus she was gone almost all night. After all this time she practically counted on it.

In fact, Mosi Doust was still in Piccadilly Circus. Almost an hour after that knock had interrupted Aubrey's evening preparations, Mosi was leaning against the railings that lined the tube entrance of the Piccadilly Circus stop, thin hands burrowing themselves deep in her pockets as she watched the commuters and tourists flow around her into the waning sunlight.

The temperature was beginning to drop, but Mosi kept her jacket unzipped for practical reasons. The pockets she had carefully sewn into the inner lining were empty at the moment, but her eyes searched the crowd with practiced intensity, looking carefully for a wallet ripe for the picking.

Her job at the call center not withstanding, Mosi was always on the lookout for spending money, something to keep her mind occupied and some of her more illicit urges satisfied. Some people played football, some built model ships; Mosi Doust picked pockets.

It was a hobby. Necessary for her mental health.

Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment when the rationalization crossed her mind. Her body bounced as she held in a laugh, her long thin legs crossing over each other as she shifted into a more comfortable position against the iron bars.

Being of average height and build, Mosi didn't particularly stand out in a crowd, which had been a blessing in her previous profession and continued to be helpful in civilian life. If she had looked particularly striking in any way, finding her in a large crowd such as the one present in Piccadilly Circus would have been relatively easy, and Arthur and Cobb would've noticed her long before she noticed them.

This was not the case.

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_Slang 101_

_Nooit - No way, never_

_Chine - Friend, mate_


	6. Familiarity

**A/N: Who is this mysterious Mosi Doust anyway? Where does she come from? Why did she leave? We continue our exploration into the dark mind of this OC in this week's chapter! ;-) Seriously though, I hope y'all are enjoying the story so far! Mosi is one of the more…difficult characters I've worked with in my career, so if you have an advice, criticism or compliment please feel free to drop me a line! ****Thanks again for everyone who gave some feedback on the last chapters – in whatever shape or form, it is very very much appreciated. **

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After the first year, Mosi had stopped looking for familiar faces in the crowd. She had stopped worrying that old enemies or friends would hunt her down without warning. Maybe she'd even gotten a little sloppy, too complacent. She had gotten so used to the idea of being lost, she wasn't sure how to feel about being found.

At first, she could only see Cobb. She caught sight of him as he stood on the opposite side of the wide street, head turning this way and that. If she hadn't known better, Mosi would've assumed he was just looking for an opening in traffic, a place to cross. But his eyes weren't looking at the cars, they were scanning the crowd. And she had to assume they were looking for her.

The hair on the back of her neck rose up against the cool air. The heat of her jacket against her skin was suddenly oppressive. From long experience she managed to keep the other, more obvious signs of panic in check. She didn't turn her head away sharply, she didn't cease all movement, and most importantly, she did not take off running.

Whether she wanted to do all these things is a separate matter.

She let her gaze drift lazily away from his face, suddenly paying far more attention to the faces her eyes passed over. Her hands fell out of her pockets smoothly and, with careful, measured steps, she moved around the railing and made her way down the stairs of the tube station entrance. She moved far enough down so that she was mostly out of sight, stopping about ten steps down so she could peer out between the rungs of the railings, watching Cobb's movements carefully.

Cobb crossed the street at a jog, making his way towards the fountain in the middle of the Circus. He turned around slowly as he mounted the steps, hardly even blinking as he looked through the sea of humanity that flooded the area.

Mosi watched him from her safe haven, trying to ignore the adrenaline that was making her mind fuzzy with fight or flight demands when she was trying very hard to think her way out of this.

While her mind was racing through the obvious questions of what she was going to do next, how Cobb had found her, and why he was looking for her in the first place, an expensive pair of mens leather shoes stopped right in front of her, blocking her clean line of sight.

Eyes darkening slightly as she glared, she threw a quick glance up at the idiot who had inadvertently ruined her tactical advantage, hands coming up to grip the railing in frustration.

She ended up grabbing it so hard she'd discover light vertical bruises on the palms of her hands later that evening.

It had been years since she'd seen Arthur but she recognized him in an instant. He was impeccably dressed as always, a black top coat concealing what she instantly assumed was a three piece suit so smooth you'd question whether or not it had ever seen a wrinkle. His dark brown hair was slicked back, his lips pursed together in an unmistakable look of frustration as he scanned the crowd in front of him.

Mosi had to try very hard not to cry out in dismay or move suddenly. She had to make an extreme effort not to turn around and vomit in the Piccadilly Circus entrance. She had to focus on breathing for a few moments before she got back on track with the simple 'in-out-in' pattern.

Having regained as much composure as was possible under the circumstances, Mosi decided quickly that the best thing she could do was slip onto the next train, wait a couple of hours in some little bar off the main streets, make a quick run to the bank to withdraw her funds and then head off to somewhere in the States, somewhere Cobb couldn't follow.

While she was walking herself through the steps of her brilliant plan, her eyes wandered between the two men, following Arthur momentarily as he walked over to where Cobb was standing. A second idea was forming in her subconscious. The smile started deep down in her stomach, tickling her there, swelling up her chest as it traveled upward. When it reached her lips it was attempting to escape out into the atmosphere it was so wide.

It wasn't the smart move. She knew that. It was a stupid, dangerous, petty move. She shouldn't do it. She shouldn't.

But she'd never been very good at impulse control and her feet were propelling her up the steps and round the opposite side of the railings before she could talk herself out of it.

On the other side of the Circus, Arthur stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the fountain. His hands shoved themselves deep into his coat pockets as he looked up at Cobb, propping one foot up on the nearest step.

"See her?"

Cobb shook his head, coming down the steps while still looking out into the crowd. "No, I don't." He stopped on the last step and sighed, his shoulders falling. "Maybe we should go back to her apartment, wait for her there."

Arthur stepped off the step with an annoyed sigh, casting his eyes upwards into the grey sky. "That could be hours, Cobb, hours we can't afford to waste."

Cobb watched the obvious frustration of his friend with waning patience, stepping down off the step to face him. "Who said it would be a waste?"

Arthur caught the reproach in Cobb's tone and swallowed, attempting to redirect the aggravation that was gnawing at his stomach. He kicked an extinguished cigarette butt with the toe of his shoe. "She's never going to say yes, Dom."

"You know that for sure?"

"I know Mosi Doust." Arthur stared sharply into the space just to the side of Cobb's head, scowling. "She's shallow, greedy, not to mention completely unstable–" he paused his tirade as a group of commuters fresh off the tube flowed between them, jostling them both with many 'excuse me's and 'sorry's, "– and she doesn't care about anyone but herself."

Cobb's eyes followed the last of the crowd as they went out into the night, hands resting lightly in his coat pockets, before turning back to Arthur, head inclined slightly inward. "Maybe she'll surprise you."

Arthur crossed his arms across his chest, smirking bitterly. "I won't hold my breath."

Cobb opened his mouth to speak when suddenly an observation worked its way to the forefront of his mind. He whipped his head around sharply, staring off into the direction that the crowd had gone. "Wait, was that her?"

Arthur followed his gaze, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What?"

Cobb took several steps forward, before turning back to explain, "The woman who bumped you when she walked by, was that Mo?"

Arthur was half-way through rolling his eyes and smiling when he dipped his hands into his pants pocket and abruptly stopped both smug activities. His fingers danced quickly over his back pockets and jacket pockets before he nodded swiftly. "That was her."

"How–"

"My wallet's gone."

Arthur broke into a sprint, bobbing and weaving his way through pedestrian and vehicle traffic, Cobb following several steps behind with a smile he hoped Arthur wouldn't notice.


	7. Denial

**A/N: Fresh off my third time watching the film, my love for this fandom has only grown ;-) I wish I could say I've seen it more, but… I'm poor ::sob:: And yet, however poor I may be in money, I am rich in wonderful, perceptive, and loyal readers! ****Thanks once more to everyone who gave feedback on the last chapters – in whatever shape or form. It is very, very much appreciated. ****If you'd like to drop me a line, please feel free to give me any advice, criticism or compliments! I love hearing from my readers! **

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Mosi waited in a narrow alleyway, breathing evenly and deeply after her brief sprint from the Circus. Her ears caught the sound of rushing footsteps, carefully noting the speed and direction as they passed by, the blurred figures of Cobb and Arthur zipping across the alley entrance and disappearing into the night. Her smile widened the farther away the sound faded into the general flow of city traffic.

That had been fun.

She glanced down at the smooth brown leather wallet in her hand, running her hand over it in admiration before splitting it open to examine its innards. She passed up the credit cards and ID – she never bothered with identity theft, it didn't seem sporting. Besides, cash was quicker, cleaner, and harder to trace. You could spend it as soon as you picked it up, without having to worry about getting picked up at an ATM or by an overzealous store clerk.

Spreading the thin papers across her palm expertly so as to not draw any attention, she gauged the take at about five hundred or so in fifties and twenties; some pound notes, some dollars. Mosi's smiled wide, her misty blue eyes lighting up at her unexpected luck. Arthur had always had expensive taste, but when she had known him he could rarely afford to indulge himself. Clearly things had changed.

With With a deep, slightly tired sigh she slipped the wallet into her jacket pocket to sell later and tucked the money into the tight waistband of her jeans. She had learnt long ago that even thieves can get stolen from, which would be tragic seeing as she had a real yearning to eat something expensive tonight.

Indian maybe.

She poked her head out of the alleyway cautiously, scanning the street in both directions, blowing her dark hair out of her eyes automatically. Seeing nothing amiss, she stepped out casually, hands in her pockets, and headed with a relaxed gait in the opposite direction her prey had gone.

She was lucky the rain had stopped and the night had turned balmy; otherwise, she might have decided to zip up her jacket before heading back out onto the street. Then, Cobb would've ended up choking her with her own hoodie when he yanked her firmly by the collar from behind, jolting her back and slightly upwards, lifting her onto the tips of her trainers.

"Hello, Mo – how are you?"

The hands that Mosi had instinctually thrown up in an attempt to free herself stopped attempting to loosen Cobb's grip. She patted his fist in a friendly way. "Oh, I'm hundreds, Dom, hundreds. Yourself?"

"I've been better."

Arthur stepped around Cobb, circling the pair until he was directly in front of the captured woman. He scowled fiercely, eyes hard, flat, and dark. His hand thrust forward violently, palm up.

"Wallet."

Mosi's fake cheer developed an edge of sincerity at the sight of Arthur's displeasure. "Can't you even start with a hello? Eish, Arthur, I know you missed me terribly - there's no need to keep it inside, chana."

Arthur's expression didn't change. "Wallet, Mosi. I won't ask again."

She meet his stare evenly, one side of her mouth still curling up into something bordering on a smirk. She reached into her jacket and slapped the folded leather into his hand a tad harder than necessary. "There."

"Listen, Dom?" Mosi twisted her head to one side, attempting to get a good look at the man behind her. "You think you could put me down now? I'm starting to lose some feeling in my arms."

Cobb lowered her back to the sidewalk gently, taking several steps back and around her as she straightened out her attire. Arthur tossed his wallet to his free hand lightly, the other still held out in front of him.

Mosi stared at it for several moments, eyebrows arched high above her wide eyes. Finally she glanced back up at Arthur.

"Wha–"

"Money."

Mosi folded her arms across her chest, leaning back on one foot. Her smile was softer now that she'd gotten over the shock of getting pinched. "You haven't even looked in the damn thing yet."

Arthur sighed; the anger falling away from his face only to be replaced with what Mosi estimated was one of the most condescending looks she'd ever seen. "Do you have to make everything difficult?"

"Just for you, bokki." The old nickname elicited the appropriate reaction – that is, Arthur glared at her and let out a soft sound of disgust. Mosi, chuckling ruefully, fished the papers from her hiding spot, kissing the stack before proffering them to Arthur, who looked at them askance; as if he wasn't quite sure he wanted them now that he knew where they'd been. He took them gingerly with two fingers and busied himself putting them back into his wallet in the right order.

Mosi turned towards Cobb, her stance still closed up tight. "Well, Arthur's flush and you're looking unusually cheery – I'm guessing you two are in the midst of high times! Come to celebrate?"

"Actually, we came here for you."

"Ah," Arthur raised a hand in protest, depositing his wallet carefully into his pocket before pointing a finger at Cobb. "He came here for you. I came in a vain attempt to convince him you weren't worth finding, but my efforts have failed."

Mosi's smile stretched out thinly, the lines of her lips taut and curled. She responded by angling her body even more towards Cobb. "Well in that case I'm glad you made the trip, if only to spite Arthur."

Arthur shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his "Thanks" a sarcasm-dripping drawl.

Mosi shot him a look over her shoulders, shrugging. "Hey, at least I'm honest."

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but Cobb cut in smoothly. "I was hoping we could talk."

Mosi looked up at Cobb, clearing her throat as she took a step back.

Cobb stepped forward, his head inclined towards her slightly. "What?"

She held her hands up in front of her, waving them from side to side as her head followed. "Nothing, nothing! It's just," Mosi struggled uncharacteristically with words, body swaying to and fro in agitation, "that is to say, as great as it is to see you, Cobb, and trust me–" she flashed a toothy smile. "–it's really great to see you. I simply don't have the time tonight." Her hands retreated to her pockets, her whole frame slouching into a wince. "Or any other night for that matter."

Cobb's hands spread out before him, a small smile gracing his lips. "Come on, Mo do you really want to disappoint an old friend?"

Mosi closed her eyes tight, lifting her face into the rapidly cooling night air, breathing out through her nose. "Now, Dom, don't…don't be that way. It's because we're old friends." She met his gaze with an unexpected smile, her hand coming out of her pocket to give his cheek a pat with her long fingers. "You know how much I hate to say no to that pretty face of yours."

Cobb responded to the familiar affectionate gesture with a laugh. "Who says you have to say no?"

"I do." The tone was unusually sharp, especially from Mosi. Cobb leaned back, giving her the space he sensed she needed. Her grey-blue eyes were round and heavy in the waning light. Her next utterance was softer and sadder. "There's only one reason you'd track me down, Cobb – I may be out of the game, but I haven't gone senile. And the answer is, unfortunately, no."

A pregnant pause hung in the air, thickening and coloring it with all the things unsaid between the trio.

"Could we at least talk it over?" Cobb's blue eyes were wide and pleading, his shoulders hunched up to his chin as he attempted to make eye contact with the reluctant woman in front of him. "Please, Mo." She was looking anywhere but at him. She shifted uneasily from foot to foot, the physical incarnation of her inward resolve wavering. "Say it's for old times' sake if that makes it easier."

Rolling her head heavenwards, Mosi moaned in frustration, jumping slightly before finally meeting Cobb's gaze. "Ag man! Okay! Okay, for old times' sake, damn it." She smiled ruefully, punching his arm playfully. "We can go up to Ponti's, remember that place? Still has the best coffee on this rock."

Cobb rubbed his arm with a smirk. "You don't even drink coffee."

"Yeah, I know." For a brief moment, Mosi almost looked sheepish, but she tossed her head to one side, shaking hair out of her face and the blush was gone. "But the smell of it is enough to tempt me. Come on."

Arthur took a step forward, making to come neatly in between Cobb and Mosi, when the latter turned and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Mosi voice was sickly sweet, her eyes suddenly filled with sympathy, her lower lip protruding ever so slightly as she intoned. "Ooh, fugitives only sweetie." She brought her hand up, pretending to tuck a piece of wayward hair behind his ear. "Besides, isn't it time for all good-boys to be in bed?"

He pushed her hand off angrily and was about to reply when Cobb stepped between them. "Arthur, I think I can handle it from here. Why don't you head back to the hotel?"

"Gladly." With one last glare thrown at Mosi, he turned, pulling his jacket tight across his shoulders as he strode away, determined to put as much distance between him and her as possible.

Cobb turned to Mosi, who was smiling indulgently, one arm swinging wide. "Shall we?"

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**Slang 101**

**Hundreds:** good, fine; as in 100 percent

**Eish:** Used to express frustration, disapproval, surprise, or displeasure

**Chana:** Mate

**Bokki:** Equivalent to "honey" or "sweetheart"

**Ag man!:** Oh man!


	8. The Carrot

**A/N: Sorry for the wait! Unfortunately, the stretches between chapters might be a bit longer, what with school coming up and everything. I've been hitting the GRE study books pretty hard myself, hence the delay. However I'll do my damndest to make it up to you with long, fun-filled, scintillating chapters! If I'm not coming through, please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you'd like to see more (or less) of! I live to serve ::bow:: ****Thanks again to everyone who gave feedback on the last chapter – it is appreciated as always. ****If you'd like to drop me a line, feel free to give me any advice, criticism or compliments!**

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Visiting the Ponti Café was a tradition with Mosi long before she took up residence in London. During her years of unlawful, yet incredibly gainful, employment in the extraction business, she'd traveled through Heathrow many times. Heathrow being the hellish air travel hub it was, Mosi found herself with a few hours to kill every time she flew.

Ponti's was her haven.

She picked up the bulbous blue cups and saucers with a customary unnoticed nod to the barista just behind the counter, already hard at work on at least three other orders. Ponti's was packed with tourists, hipsters making fun of the tourists, and night shift workers making fun of the hipsters. Mosi lifted the cups of hot liquid up and around the sea of talking heads, her body contorting through the crowd with practiced ease, feet just managing to avoid purses, power cords, and the occasional stack of books.

Cobb sat at a plastic-topped table in the back, just under the stairs that led up to the second floor. It was a surprisingly quiet spot amidst the chaos of caffeine-seeking people of the night; equally surprising was the fact that the table seemed to have been reserved for Mosi, who had picked up the cheap cardboard sign with a flourish, gestured him to sit and made her way to the front of the long line with no resistance.

Cobb could almost make out the strained tones of modern folk music pulsing out of the speaker system, his mind wandering to past memories as he watched Mosi pick her way towards him. Her gawky frame managed to look almost graceful in movement, a quality he had forgotten about in the intervening years.

"You must come here often," he commented, throwing one arm over the back of his chair as he leaned back, smiling up into her flushed face.

"Too often." Mosi smiled back, keeping one eye on the precariously full drinks as she slid herself onto her chair. She placed her own mug of hot chocolate on the table in front of her, bringing his fresh Americano up to her nose and breathing in deeply. With a delighted shiver and a longing sigh, she relinquished it.

Cobb took the cup gingerly, eyeing the woman across from him suspiciously. "You know you could always order your own. You'd get to drink it and everything."

Mosi waved a hand at him dismissively, taking a long swallow of her drink. "If there's one thing I don't need, it's a caffeine addiction." She leaned back in her chair slowly, brushing an errant bang out of her face with her free hand as she allowed herself a smile. "I have enough problems as it is."

Cobb refrained from responding, managing to pull a weak grin across his lips as his fingers tapped the ceramic cup nervously. Mosi watched him closely for a moment, her eyes scrunching down into a squint. She put down her cup with a gentle click, but remained in a languid position. "You're in quite the state, aren't you, bergie?"

Taking a sip of his coffee, Cobb straightened in his chair, cocking his head slightly to one side as he valiantly endeavored to keep smiling. "Is it that obvious?"

Mosi took the opportunity to shrug her jacket off her shoulders, shaking her head as she pulled at her sleeves. "No. No it's not." She turned, draping her jacket over the chair carefully, avoiding his eyes. "I just know you very, very well."

When she turned back towards him, her face was all business. The easy lines of smiles had fallen from her lips and eyes, her expression became unreadable. Her body remained, as always, loose, her arms and legs flaying out from her body languidly. It was only because Cobb also knew her very, very well that he could detect the slight tension in her shoulders, the repositioning of her body towards the nearest exit.

Cobb took a drink of his Americano, endeavoring to act as if he hadn't noticed the complete shift in the mood of his companion. He fidgeted in the uncomfortable metal chair as if it was the foremost thing on his mind, lining up the words carefully before they hit his tongue.

"I need your help, Mo."

"Oh." She moved her arm up to rest on the back of the chair, her hand flipping up easily as she adjusted. "Well, in that case, name it - I'm always happy to help a friend."

Her tone was anything but friendly, and Cobb knew that she knew it. He leaned in, resting his arm on the table as he did so. "It's a job."

"Unavailable." She began to stand up, grabbing her coat with one hand. "Was that it?"

"Mosi."

She paused, awkwardly stuck in a position half erect and half at rest. She translated an eye-roll into a complete upper body expression, rolling her shoulders back and her head around her neck as she looked back down at the man across from her with unwilling eyes.

His sea foam blue eyes glanced up at her for only a moment before returning to their previous position, staring straight ahead at where she had been reclining. "Mo, you promised to hear me out."

Mosi took a deep breath in through her nose, letting it out slowly as she returned to her seat. This time her hands came up to rest on the table top, fingers intertwining tensely. "Okay. Okay, Dom: I'm listening."

Cobb breathed in deeply, putting himself mentally back on the script he had prepared. "It's a dangerous job. With no payment that I can guarantee, you should know that upfront."

Mosi attempted to mask her confusion and interest with a casual sip of her cooling drink. "Alright, it's known. What kind of job is this?"

"It's more of a…" Cobb searched for the right words, twisting his cup in its saucer absentmindedly. "…a personal favor then a job."

Mosi pulled back slightly, straightening her back and looking at him sideways. "Listen, Dom…if you're in some kind of trouble, you can just come out and say it. Is it your charges back in the states? Has something changed?"

Cobb couldn't suppress a chuckle, shaking his head over his steaming drink with a tense smile. "Well, if you have to know, they have changed. But that's not the problem, no."

Her inquiring eyes and disbelieving grimace asked all the questions for her and Cobb couldn't avoid answering them, especially since it still gave him a thrill to say it, even a year later. "I found a way home, Mo."

"Home?" Mosi leaned in slowly, a smile spreading across her features. "Home home? Home in the states, but not in prison home? Home with your family home?"

Cobb only nodded. Mosi's hands came up to her mouth, deadening the sound of her ecstatic exclamations. "Aweh! Aweh, Dom! That is so – I mean! That is so befok, bru!" She grabbed him warmly by the arms, leaning over the table to planting an unexpected kiss on his cheek. "Congratulations!"

He cleared his throat, smiling but caught off guard by Mosi's emotional outbursts that had at one time been so familiar. "Thanks."

She sat back hard in her chair, her grey eyes as wide as her smile. "How did this happen? When?"

"About a year ago." He sighed, leaning back in his chair, seemingly unable to control the smile on his face. "And it's been a great year."

Mosi cocked her head to one side, reaching a hand out to toy with the handle of her cup. "I'll bet. But how'd you do it, Dom?"

Cobb considered the impact of his response before he said it, watching her closely, curious as to his old friend's reaction. "Inception."

Mosi's face remained disappointedly unchanged. She waited a beat before nodding, mistaking his silence for a need of encouragement. "Yeah, what about it?"

Dom splayed his hand out on the counter top, leaning in as he explained simply, "I did it."

Her shoulders dropped slowly, arms falling down to her sides. She pushed her body away from the table as if she was considering getting up. Her breathing shallowed out as she stared at the man across from her.

"Bullshit."

Cobb shook his head ever so slightly, sending Mosi's eyes flicking compulsively from his face to a chipped tile on the café floor. "Are you…" her voice had fallen to a whisper and she was having difficulty completing sentences, as if she had just run a 5k. He had to lean in to hear her properly. "Are you telling me…that you – you, actually did it; you – you planted an idea in someone's mind and it, it stuck?" Her pleading eyes finally met his. "It worked?"

He nodded, smiling wide. "Yes."

Mosi couldn't hold it in anymore. Her two arms came up slowly, resting one on top of the other on the table top. Her head dropped onto them with a high-pitched groan and a simple exclamation. "Oh Christ, I think I'm gonna faint!"

Cobb sat back in his chair, draining his drink to the dregs. "Try breathing through your nose, I hear it helps."

"Okay, sure," was the muffled response from the recumbent woman across from him. She lifted her head after a few moments, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks rosy. "You clever son of a bitch, you really did it? I think I just fell in love with you!"

"I sincerely hope not. No offense."

"None taken." Mosi sat back, composure slowly but surely returning to her as she smiled uncontrollably, sighing and moaning like a happy child. "You did it, I cannot believe it! How, how you have to tell me! It's not like Inception's been a part of my life directly and indirectly since I was 12 or anything; you have to tell me!"

Cobb sensed an opportunity, one that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of before. He ran a hand through his hair casually, a hand slipping itself into his pocket before he made eye contact with her again. "I would, but it's my only poker chip in this game."

Mosi greedily sucked down a mouthful of hot chocolate before pressing, "How so?"

"Here's the way it works," Cobb kept his expression amiable enough but his tone was all business. "You do this favor for me, this job – and I'll give you Inception."

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**Slang 101**

**1. Bergie -** Refers to anyone down-and-out

**2. Aweh! - **An exclamation of excitement

**3. Befok -** Really good, exciting, cool

**4. Bru -** Male friend, brother


	9. The Stick

**A/N:** I'm hoping that the length of this chapter will make up, in some small way, for how long it's taken me to update. It's my last year of undergrad and oh dear Lord it is so much more work than I was expecting :-P So the updates will probably be coming further apart, but - hopefully! - they will also be longer. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last time, I love hearing what y'all think!

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Mosi placed the chipped blue cup down on the table slowly. Cobb watched its trajectory until it made contact, all too aware of the suddenly coolness of his companion. "Wow." Mosi let go of the handle as if she were afraid the china ware was going to suddenly flit away, like a fish let off the line. Her eyes were flat in the harsh light of the café. Cobb didn't flinch under her steady gaze only because of the long practice he'd had with such appraisals. "That's very…calculated of you, Cobb." Mosi threw her arms over her chest with a shaky deprecating smile. "It's clear your business savvy has improved since we parted."

Cobb leaned in, eager to close the gap she was putting between them. "I know how much Inception means to you–"

"Then you should damn well know better than to use it as a bargaining chip." The hurt in her voice was genuine, which surprised him. "Hell, is that what friends do?" So much about her was for show, he'd realized that long ago, but the reproach and weakness in her eyes was painfully honest, even as she tried to mask it with a sort of glib disappointment.

Cobb grabbed onto the familiar sarcasm gratefully, adopting a playful tone. "Think of it as icing on the cake. As the prize, but not the motivation."

Mosi paused, her eyes drifting upward as her hand drifted back towards her cup. "And that would be…what?"

"Helping out an old friend."

Sighing heavily, Mosi begrudgingly waved her hand at Cobb. "What's the job then, friend?"

"Extraction."

"What would we be extracting?"

"A sensitive piece of information that the subject wouldn't want revealed publicly." He lifted an arm over the back of his chair to make himself more comfortable. "Haven't quite figured out what exactly that is yet, but that's where you come in."

"So, blackmail?" Mosi lifted her eyebrows in vague interest when he nodded, smiling with one side of her mouth as she queried, "And why do you need me?"

"Because I'm out."

The smile was gone. "Out out?"

Cobb nodded, his lips set in a hard line. "I made a promise; to myself and to my family. That part of my life is over; I can't take those kinds of risks anymore."

It seemed to Mosi that today was one of those days the universe sends to purposefully knock us off balance. When she had left her flat this evening, this was not how she envisioned spending the night. It was too much. She opted for a sidestep of emotion as she observed. "So the job's risky. Interesting." A sip of hot chocolate coated her rapidly drying throat. "Who's the subject?"

"A man, I don't know much about him," Cobb admitted uneasily, toying with the ring he still wore on his finger. "Name's Rafe Toporak."

Mosi's laugh shook Cobb from his own dark thoughts; it was such an unexpected reaction. She threw a hand up into the air, eyes rolling good naturedly as she chortled. "Right! Rafe Toporak! I see getting back home has improved your sense of humor, Dom." The scampish smile she leveled at her companion faded quickly at the sight of his confused glare. She sobered up quickly, compulsively pushing her hair behind her ear as she leaned in. "Wait, are you serious?"

Cobb nodded slowly. "Very, why?"

"You actually met this man?" His only answer was another nod. Mosi lowered her voice, leaning in across the table, her expression becoming the picture of shocked disbelief. "Face to face, you saw him? In the flesh?"

Her reaction was beginning to unseat his usual calm. He squirmed in his seat, a bite of annoyance slinking into his words. "Yes! Why, do you know him?"

Mosi sat back in her chair, clearing her throat as she attempted another laugh, this one strangely pregnant with disgust. "Hardly. To be honest, I was fairly convinced he didn't exist." Cobb's blue eyes creased in curiosity. Mosi stretched her legs out underneath the table with a sigh. "Back in the old days, when this whole dream sharing for profit business was first getting started, my dad and some of his mates used sit around during the off hours and trade stories about an extractor named Rafe Toporak." She took another sip of her drink, long since cold, casting a contemplative glance up toward the ceiling. "I'd imagine he would've been quite a bit younger in those days, of course."

"What did they say about him?"

"Well they'd talk about jobs he'd done. Way he handled jobs when things went south, as they did more often in those days. People he'd…done things too." Cobb watched her closely, noting the shiver that went through her as she paused to remember. "They talked about him like he was the boogeyman, you know? I sort of assumed they were just swapping campfire stories." She met his gaze steadily, half-smiling as she gestured towards him with her cup. "But you say you've met him."

"I have. He came to my house."

That sick feeling that had been gestating deep in her stomach reared its ugly head. She didn't bother hiding her concern, querying "What did he want?"

"Inception."

There was another span of silence that stretched between them, Mosi looking into Cobb's eyes in that cool, unblinking way he remembered, Cobb refusing to shift his gaze.

"You're not going to give it to him." She had read him like a book. It was an annoying habit.

Cobb let his head drop, his neck tense and tired under the strain of the past couple of days. "Do you think I should?"

"No, no – hell no, Dom, it's not that!" She shifted suddenly in her seat, the corners of her mouth turning down into a sympathetic grimace. "It's just…I can't imagine a man like Rafe Toporak taking a 'no' very well."

"He didn't." Mosi said nothing. Cobb didn't care what Arthur might say: Mosi really did know when to keep her mouth shut. It was one of the things he admired most about her. "He said he'd come after my children, Mo. If I didn't say yes, he was going to kill them." Mosi didn't reply, but stayed staring out just over his shoulder, her face noticeably blank. Cobb couldn't help but ask, "Would he? From what you've heard?"

The question elicited a mirthless, quiet laugh from his companion. "From what I've heard? Kak, Cobb! Half of the things I've heard I'm not even sure are true!" She glanced down at him, her eyes holding just the tiniest sliver of concern. "But if even half of them are, I can tell you this: he's a monster. He's a psychopath, totally bosbefok, you get me?" She stirred her hot chocolate absentmindedly. "And he should be ridiculously wealthy to boot, which means he's got power and a very long reach – if the stories are true, of course."

Cobb took this information as soberly as he could under the circumstances. But pushing the worst fears to the back of his mind, he actually managed a smile as he said, "Well, I guess you'll find out."

Mosi's response was as comedic as he'd expected. The spoon clanked against the ceramic cup as she dropped it, her body abruptly coming to attention as she sat up stock straight in her chair, waving both hands in front of her as she scowled. "Now hold on a minute! I haven't said yes, I haven't even said anything vaguely resembling a yes!" She looked up at him from under her brow, her mouth open in a sarcastic smile. "If this job is as…as risky and high stakes as you've said it is – why are you coming to me?"

"You're one of the best, Mosi. Always have been."

The compliment was an unexpected play for him. Mosi's hands dropped to the table top where they caressed the edge. She blinked, her cloudy eyes getting wide. "No. Dom, no. I was one of the best, notably past-tense." The bereavement in her voice almost compelled Cobb to reach across the table and hold her hand. As if she had predicted this, she curled up upon herself, pulling in her arms tightly, her chin dropping to her chest. "I can't do it anymore. You know that."

Cobb had heard this before. But knowing it and hearing her say it were two different things. He was silent for a moment and Mosi did nothing to ease the tension he felt. When he did speak, his tone was more intimate then he had previously intended. "I need someone I can trust on this, Mosi. Someone I can count on to do whatever it takes." Mosi didn't look up, seemingly entranced by the parallel scratches on the table top. "Besides, I've talked to some people you've worked with, after you left. They said you managed alright."

"Alright is not what you want with a job like this." Half mumbling the words, Cobb was uncertain whether she was addressing him or simply talking out loud. There was a beat. And then she flipped her head up, pushing the hair out of her face as she scowled, demanding sourly, "And what people?"

"Eames, for one."

"Eames. Nogal." The sentimental smile that graced her lips softened that look of disgust into something more closely resembling exhaustion. She even managed a laugh as she queried, "That crazy bastard is still working?" Cobb nodded. "How is he?'

"He's good. In Argentina last time I heard, living the high life."

Mosi nodded, tilting her head to one side as she reminisced. "That certainly sounds like him; make it all so you can spend it all."

She was wearing down. They could both sense it. The aura of endless energy that Mosi usually projected had faded down to a barely warming glow. She was staring out into the crowd listlessly, thinking what Cobb couldn't have begun to guess. He leaned in slightly, resting an arm against the wobbly table. "Look, Mosi, I'm not here to derail your life. If you're happy here, if you're doing well for yourself, I would completely understand you wanting to say no. I'm here because I really need your help." Mosi glanced back at him, her mouth opening ever so slightly. "And you know that's not easy for me to say."

She turned away again, gnawing her lower lip furiously before she released it with a sigh. "Do I have any time to think this over, or is it a now or never sort of offer?"

Cobb straightened his jacket as he stood, coming around his chair to reclaim and don his coat as he spoke. "I'm catching a flight back to L.A. this time tomorrow; at least that's the plan. I'm staying at the Dorchester; meet me there if you're in."

"Don't be surprised if I don't show, Cobb." Her tone was cold and hard. It was so unlike her that he paused in his departing preparations to look down at her. She sat stock still, staring forward without expression. The only thing Cobb could think about was how tired she looked. "I don't think you have any idea what you're asking me to risk, I really don't."

"That's probably true." Cobb leaned down and kissed her cheek gently. "It was good to see you, Mo."

He walked away, pulling his collar tight around his neck. It had started raining again. Mosi sat, tapping a mournful beat on the table as she stared at the water running down the pane of glass beside her.

What was she going to do?

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Slang 101:

1. Kak: Shit

2 Bosbefok: Mad, psychopathic

3. Nogal: Of all things. A term expressing surprise


	10. Caveats

A/N: Happy New Year to all! Consider this my very late and over-hyped present to you all :-D I apologize sincerely for the long wait for this chapter – but break brought with it the gift of writer's block for me; yet overcome it, I did! And this is the result. Thanks to all who favorited and/or reviewed – I love hearing from you guys and having your support means everything to me!

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The Dorchester was an expensive hotel without being flashy; pleasant and high-end while still under the radar enough to stay in with impunity if people were looking for you. Cobb had taken a shine to its architecture, big swooping windows on the ground floor, the lines of them arching up and falling back down to mingle with the browns, golds, and greens that made up the décor. The furniture was classical, without being old fashioned, spaced in tiny groups of three and four throughout the lobby. It was a comfortable place to sit and wait, while offering many avenues of quick escape if a business meeting went wrong.

Mosi had showed him this place.

But it was an hour before he had to leave for his flight and she had yet to arrive. Cobb sat quietly in a chair equal distance from the front and the back doors, stoically looking at neither. He looked relaxed enough, legs crossed, arms resting casually on his seat. If it wasn't for the seriousness of his expression, one would be hard pressed to sense anything wrong at all.

Arthur was decidedly less self-contained. He paced back and forth in front of the chair across from Cobb. He shook his head occasionally, opened his mouth as if he were about to speak, then stopped with another shake.

His mind working hard on the potential obstacle that faced him, Cobb was attempting to ignore his companion's agitation. But Arthur was so rarely agitated that Cobb was completely fascinated to the point of distraction.

"Arthur." He turned his coiffed head in Cobb's direction, stopping. Cobb attempted a smile. "Please. I can't think when you do that."

Arthur sat down wordlessly, his lips thinning into a hard line.

Cobb turned his gaze up towards the grandfather clock to his left. Twenty minutes until he had to leave. It looks like he was going to have to fall back onto plan B.

Except he didn't have a Plan B.

Arthur was staring holes through him, his legs spread wide, elbows resting on each knee as he hunched over.

Cobb folded under his stare, sighing deeply as he leaned back in his seat, hand coming up to swipe hard across his lips. "Damnit."

"Dom-"

Cobb attempted to short circuit the reproach he knew was coming, raising a hand as his eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Don't, don't say it."

But Arthur would not be denied his moment of triumph, throwing himself back into his chair while waving his hand in the air, scowling deeply. "Fine. Fine, I won't say what a complete waste of time it was coming here, or how I knew she'd never commit to anything that didn't involve a direct benefit to her, or how extremely relieved I am that she's not here."

Cobb's baleful stare almost made Arthur regret what he had said, but his disgust just managed to trump his desire to go easy on his friend. He breathed hard, his burnt caramel eyes seeking solace in the ceiling before meeting Cobb's troubled glance. "There are other people, Cobb. Other extractors just as good." He ticked off the names on his fingers as he said them. "There's Haynes…there's Franklin…there's Dacey-"

Arthur felt the weight on the back of his chair before he heard her voice. Mosi had perched herself lightly on the wide, curved back of the seat. Leaning her weight on one outstretched arm, her converse clad feet swung to and fro as she spoke. "Dacey, I think you'll find, is a complete alcoholic, Franklin couldn't extract his own head out of his ass and Haynes…" While her assessment had so far been addressed seemingly at the air above her head, her pause brought her gaze downward onto Arthur's upturned face. Her smile was positively criminal as she surmised "…well, Haynes isn't as pretty as me, is he?"

The lines of Arthur's scowl had grown even deeper. The misery in his eyes made it clear that while he could take issue with that statement, he was restraining himself as much as he could. Mosi pushed the back of his head jovially with her elbow. "Cheer up, bokkie: you know you would've missed me."

Cobb smoothed out his tie as he looked up at her, half smiling. "I thought you weren't gonna show."

"I wasn't." Mosi slipped off the back of the chair gracefully, coming round it as she spoke. "I was sitting in that bar," she pointed to the lounge tucked in the back corner, stopping in front of Cobb, "nursing my Warsaw Cocktail, watching you stew –" She paused, her outstretched hand bobbing as she laughed, head cocked to one side. "–particularly enjoying Arthur's attempt to wear a hole in the carpet, and happily convinced I was going to watch you walk off to get on your flight back home. But, I turned away for a minute and looked out the window–" she turned slowly on her heel until she was facing the large windows of the lobby and stabbed the air in front of her maliciously. "– at that. That…awful scene of black streets, grey sky, and brown rain; and you know what?" Mosi sat down abruptly on the low, blocky coffee table behind her. She shook her head, bangs swinging listlessly in front of her wide-eyed face. "I just couldn't take it anymore." Mosi leaned back onto the heels of her hands. "So don't thank me for coming out, chommie, you can thank this vrot, miserable little town called London for driving me crazy enough to join you on this venture."

Cobb nodded in mock seriousness. "Duly noted." He knew a thin excuse when he heard one, but said nothing.

Mosi returned the gesture, carefully avoiding eye contact. "Right. Good." She breathed in deeply through her nose, rolling her neck around her shoulders before she spoke. "Now: we have a bit of a problem."

Sinking sullenly back in his seat, Arthur scoffed aloud. "That was fast."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," Mosi didn't even bother turning to face him directly, her speech coming snidely out of one side of her mouth, "it wasn't actually your fault this time."

"What's the problem, Mo?"

Admiring Cobb's ever present tact, she hesitated for a moment, unsure how to express the issue politely. "Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but: I've been out for a long while now. Most of the people I used to work with –" She leaned forward, throwing her hands up in the air to illustrate her point. "I have no idea where they are; it's gonna take awhile to track them down."

"We don't have the time."

She noted the shifting of Cobb's eyes off of her face with guarded concern. She modulated her voice carefully. "Why not?" The wince he made did little to assure her.

"We have a month." He shrugged, adding quietly, "A couple days short of a month, actually."

Mosi's hands came down with a sharp slap before she stood, taking several steps away from him before Cobb could cut her off with a pleading, "Where are you going?"

She swung round, fists clenched tightly at her sides. "Back to my seat at the bar!"

"Mo–"

"Don't you 'Mo' me, Dominic Cobb!" Mosi stomped back towards him, her volume appropriate to the public setting, but her anger evident as fumed. "You never said anything about a month! That's, that's –" the sputter was getting the better of her and she forced herself to slow down, hand cutting an angry swath through the air "– that's impossible!"

"I told you so."

If she had been calmer, she would have noticed the mockery in his tone, the glint in his eyes, and the wicked slant to his mouth. But, being as she wasn't, she walked right into it, turning to face him directly for the first time since she entered. "What, what did you tell him, Arthur? Please; share!"

His eyes met hers. "That you weren't good enough."

Yeah. She'd walked right into that one.

Cobb looked at first one, then the other. The air was tight. Mosi took her time answering, even though she knew there was only one thing she could say. "Fine." The 'f' pushed its way between her teeth.

Her body remained tense, jaw clenched, but she returned to her seat, however stiffly. "A month. Fine." She popped her lips, hands palm up in front of her. "I'm open to suggestions at this point."

Cobb reached down to the case beside him, pulling out a thin blue file from its side pocket and placing it in her hands. Mosi's curiosity successfully dampened her anger. "What's this?"

"It's a list." He watched her open it and leaf through its contents. "Some people you might want to consider, their addresses…"

"You think of everything, don't you?"

The affection in her voice assured Cobb that she'd calmed down enough for him to bring up what he presumed would be the next sticking point. "Arthur will be your point man of course."

"Hmm." It wasn't quite what he'd been expecting, but Cobb wasn't about to complain. Mosi continued to peruse the papers in front of her. "He agreed to that?"

"He did." Cobb sat back in his chair, truly starting to relax. "Anyway, who else would you get? He's the best."

"That's laying it on a bit thick, but I suppose I get the point." She lifted her head to grace him with a grin. "How important is a point man anyway?"

Arthur sat up straight in his seat, bristling all over. "You do realize I'm sitting right here?"

"Whoops, no, guess I forgot about you again," it was almost convincing, except for the amusement in her voice. Mosi moved on quickly, tossing her head at Cobb as leaned over to take a pen from his case. "You're heading back to LA, right?"

"Yes."

"Good," Mosi scribbled across the bottom of a page quickly, speaking as she did so. "When you get there, phone this number. The man who answers, Gallins, tell him you're with me and you need access to," she tore off the bit of paper with the phone number and address on it, handing it to Cobb, "this building." She clicked the pen closed, waving it in her hand. "If he gives you any trouble, just tell him I still have those pictures and I know where to send them, and he should shut up."

Cobb glanced at the information before folding the scrap and slipping it into his breast pocket. "Work out of LA? Why?"

"For your sake mostly." She returned the pen with a flourish. "If we're not near enough for you to check-in in person, you're going to be calling every couple of hours and that'll make me want to hurt you. This way you have access to progress reports and I have access to your advice." The look of gratitude on his face was a bit much for Mosi. "Besides, you can set up while I'm running around the world collecting people."

"Thanks for the consideration."

She returned her gaze to the page. "You're more than welcome."

Cobb watched her for a moment, struggling for a way to express what her help meant, but finding, as it often was with him, that saying nothing was probably best. "I guess I have a flight to catch."

He stood, grabbing up his overcoat and bags in one smooth motion. Mosi lifted a hand in a wave, forehead creased in concentration at the lists in front of her. "I'll meet you there in a couple days, yebo?"

"Right." With a last nod of farewell at Arthur, Cobb walked away, feeling the dread that had been festering in his stomach subside for the first time since Toporak's visit to him days ago.

The quiet lull that followed his leaving seemed to stretch on, growing tauter with every second until Arthur felt sure it was going to snap, painfully. Not wanting to be the one to get hurt, he opened his mouth to speak first, but Mosi's mouth was, as he remembered, slightly faster. "I recommend we talk to each other as little as possible."

There was no malice in her words, just a kind of straightforward tiredness that struck Arthur as genuine. He nodded, standing and slipping his hands into his pockets. "Sounds like a plan."

Still without looking at him, Mosi stood as well, walking back towards the front doors where, Arthur noticed for the first time, a bellhop was waiting with what he assumed were her bags. "Great. Get your things, we're going to Paris for our architect first."

"Paris." His middling mood suddenly vanished as he realized who exactly Cobb must have put on that list. "No. No, Mo – Mosi!" Either she was too far away to hear him or ignoring him; either way she didn't even slow down. Arthur shrugged on his coat hurriedly, groaning as he rushed after her. "Ah, hell."

* * *

Slang 101

Chommie: Chum, mate

Vrot: Rotten, awful

Yebo: Alright, okay


	11. Addendums, Part 1

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who's been reading or reviewing! I love hearing back from you guys, please don't hesitate to drop a note with a suggestion or criticism. I adore my fanfic family :-D For all our new readers, welcome! Got a juicy character chapter for you here, folks, make no mistake ;-) Hope you enjoy!**

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Ariadne shook off her coat in the entryway of her apartment building, happy to be out of the wet spring weather of Paris. Spring break was coming up soon, her anticipation for weeks without school work tempered by the impending projects she had due.

Trudging up the stairs, she ran a hand through her damp hair. She attempted to distract herself from thoughts that had grown steadily and untended in her mind by going through the list of household chores she had left undone.

Laundry. Recycling. Electric Bill.

The door to the fifth floor landing snapped shut behind Ariadne with a loud crack. When she'd first moved in, she had intended to complain to the management about it. Even though her flat was at the other end of the hall, she could always hear it through her walls. Some of the tenets liked to stay out quite late, and being woken up at four in the morning every day wasn't exactly conducive to her more erudite pursuits. Here, a year on, it didn't even break her train of thought as she swept down the hallway.

Her door slid silently open over the plush tan carpet. Ariadne tucked a wayward piece of her chestnut hair behind her ear as she entered, shrugging her bag off of her shoulder with a grunt as she kicked the door closed.

She threw her keys into the bowl on the entryway table before peeling off the layers of her outerwear. She moved the bishop from her topcoat into her jeans pocket automatically, rolling it in her hand as she made the exchange, finding its contours and weight as soothing as always.

Her flat looked dim and shadowy in the cloud-filtered light. Muffling a sigh, Ariadne flicked on the light, building up the importance in her mind of the chapters yet unread and the building designs she had left half finished on her desk.

Yet movement forward eluded her.

That's when she heard it. The landing door thudding like someone had slammed it. Which, oddly enough, someone actually had this time. At first, she wasn't sure why she'd noticed it all. But then her ears tuned into the voice echoing down the corridor.

"–been 5 hours, don't you ever stop talking?"

"I'll stop talking when you start listening."

Ariadne turned back to the door slowly, peering at the black plank of wood hard enough to give herself the beginning of a headache. That was Arthur's voice. It was Arthur's voice, but draped over it was a woman's laughter, a low barking chortle.

"Not her."

His associate, whoever she was, seemed as taken aback with Arthur's humorless tone as Ariadne was. She moved closer to the door, leaning against it with her ear to the wood. "Hey, you got a problem with it, take it up with 'the boss'." The woman's tone was such that Ariadne could actually hear the air quotes. "I didn't put her name on the list."

At the mention of a list, Ariadne could hear the rustling of papers coming closer to her door. "She's not the only name on here–"

The woman cut Arthur off. "Yes, but she is at the top – which means she's the best. "I want the best." Ariadne moved back from the door. She'd never heard anyone cut Arthur off; besides Cobb of course. She wasn't sure how to feel about it. The sudden sternness of the voice gave way to its previous joviality. "Come on, she'll be fine! Trust me."

"Never."

There was no way to describe the disgust that dripped off that single word. The silence that stretched out after it was filled with the overflow of loathing from the utterance.

The woman let out a small, but audible cough. "You know what? That not talking thing we agreed on? Let's start that now."

The tap on the door was deceptively light, given the conversation Ariadne had overhead moments before. She waited a beat before leaning down and opening the door smoothly to the stranger outside with Arthur. That stranger appeared to be a wiry woman, black hair peeking out from under a newsboy cap which framed her diamond shaped face. Arthur kept to the background, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes focused intently on the floor just in front of him.

The woman removed her cap quickly, a smile dimpling her cheeks as she shook out her short hair with one hand while she proffered the other. "Afternoon! Mosi Doust, may I come in?" Without waiting for a reply, Mosi took several steps inside the apartment, reaching down to grab Ariadne's as yet unextended hand and giving it two or three hearty shakes before releasing it. "Awful weather you're having, isn't it?"

"It's not the greatest." Ariadne admitted perfunctorily, confused at the sudden shift in conversation as well as the way Mosi muscled her way inside. In fact, Mosi had taken several steps past her at this point and had to turn back around to face her as she answered.

Mosi responded with a polite nod, before quickly moving on. "Sorry, what was your name again?"

"Ariadne."

"Lovely!" Mosi cast a glance through the still open door at Arthur. The smile slid off her face like a glove off a hand. "Well? Are you coming or are you gonna pout in the hallway like a child?"

Arthur strode past her without responding, eyes glaring at her from under his brow as she closed the door carefully. Once it was shut, she seemed to forget the other two were in the room, wandering away into the rest of the apartment.

Pulling his arms tight across his chest, Arthur turned a sad eye towards Ariadne at last. "Hello, Ariadne."

"Hi, Arthur." The polite exchange hung in the air awkwardly, the sounds of Mosi rummaging through magazines and sitting on all the furniture sucking the warmth from the greetings, leaving them dead and dry. Ariadne rocked back and forth on her heels, digging for something to say to normalize the bizarre tenor of this encounter. "Um, how are things?"

"They _were_ fine." Arthur's didn't bother lowering his volume as he turned his head pointedly in the direction of his companion, his usually kind eyes digging into Mosi's back with a disdain Ariadne didn't think him capable of. "Until recently."

"Love the music collection, Ari!" Mosi's exclamation was a welcome distraction, drawing Ariadne out of the entryway and into her living room, where Mosi knelt next to her CD tower. "I can already tell we're going to get along famously. Not like this one –" Without looking over her shoulder, Mosi jabbed her thumb in Arthur's direction, still hovering in the background, his hands wrapped tightly across his chest, "– he only listens to dead French singers from the fifties, wouldn't know a catchy tune if it bit him in the ass–" Standing as she spoke, she craned her head around the corner, her eyes lighting up. She walked into the adjoining room with a spring in her step. "Is this the kitchen? Don't mind if I help myself, do you Ari, I'm starved…"

Her head disappearing into the refrigerator, Ariadne took the opportunity to lean towards Arthur, quirking her eyebrow up as she inquired, "Ari?"

Arthur stepped into the room with a nod. "She shortens everyone's name. Well, practically everyone's." They watched as she abandoned the fridge and opted for an apple from the fruit bowl. "I think she has trouble with words that are longer than two syllables."

Popping back around the corner, jaws working on a chunk of apple, Mosi responded with a muffled laugh. "The envy just rolls off him in waves, doesn't it?" She took another bite and chewed on it as she dropped herself onto the couch, lying lengthwise with her feet on the arm. "Just because I'm endearingly charming and you have the personality of paste, there's no reason to be nasty.

By this point Ariadne had managed, in some small way to regain her balance. Something strange was definitely going on, but she was, as always, determined to grab it by its coattails, whatever it happened to be. She stepped forward, hands coming down to grip her hips, glancing between the two adults with a frown. "Look, I'm sorry if this sounds rude or anything, but: what are you doing here?"

Mosi swung herself upright, tossing her feet back onto the floor. "Ooo, right to business!" She looked up at her with a knowing smile. "I can see why Dom likes you."

Ariadne dropped down onto the ottoman behind her, her arms falling limply to her sides. "Cobb?"

She turned her wide eyes towards Arthur. His hands returned to his pockets and he lowered himself slowly onto the arm of the love seat where Mosi's feet had been. "He's in some trouble."

Ariadne took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before fixing them steadily on his face. "What kind of trouble?"

"Can't you guess?" The amusement in Mosi's tone drew her eye back down. Mosi was leaning forward, half eaten apple bobbing in front of her as she spoke. "You people are thick. You just," Mosi took another bite, looking contemplatively into the ether above their heads, "…changed the world and what? Didn't expect any consequences?" Swallowing, she scoffed audibly, shaking her head as she tapped Ariadne's knee with the back of her hand. "Well, wake up from the fairytale, stukkie, it doesn't work that way." She settled back against the cushions, her smile slipping away. "A tool like Inception? People have killed for a lot less, trust me."

"Is he alright?" The architect toyed with the rings on her hand, staring down at the carpet between her feet.

Arthur attempted a smile. "He's fine–"

"For now." Mosi studied the remaining bits of her apple, flicking her eyes up to meet Ariadne's. "Need your help to keep him that way."

The feeling of Mosi's eyes on her face made Ariadne shift in her seat. "My help?"

"He needs a job done. Hired me to do it. And I need an architect." She took the final bite out of her apple. "You up for it?"

"Stop it." Arthur stepped in front of Mosi, his back blocking her out quite effectively. "Ariadne, I'm sorry about this. We shouldn't have come here in the first place." He craned his neck over his shoulder to scowl down at Mosi. Turning back, his expression softened back into one of apologetic understanding. "I know you're busy with school – we'll find someone else."

"Yes," Mosi's hands were just visible around Arthur's torso as she threw them up in the air. "We'll find someone else. I can just go, waste the little time we have left finding someone else, someone not as good as you, to handle this extremely delicate and important job." She leaned down across the couch, propping herself up on her elbow so she could get a good eye-line with Ariadne. "I mean, they might screw it up, but, it's just Dom's family right? How important is that, really, compared to something like school."

Arthur turned on his heel, hands clenched at his side. His teeth ground into one another as he spat out, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" For a second, Mosi didn't move a muscle, staring up at him politely with her hands folded in front of her. Then, without warning, she surged to her feet, forcing him to take several large steps back. He narrowly avoided tripping over Ariadne as he stumbled away. Mosi's face was drawn and flushed, her lean frame shook. "Take a look in the mirror, sunshine; what the hell's wrong with you?" Her hands tugged at her hair as she groaned. "Christ, we don't have time for this! We have less than a month to do something, very much in the realm of the impossible and you're telling me I should let the best architect we're likely to get, be – to do her homework? Maybe you're willing to risk Dom's life on this, but I'm not!"

"That's not the issue here." Arthur angled his body away from her, lowering his voice. "This…this is going to get messy, Mosi. You and I both know that." Her face remained unchanged; a shrug of her shoulders the only sign that she heard him at all. His jaw tightened. "I'm not letting you do to her what you did to Dom."

Whatever it was that Arthur had meant by that, Ariadne could tell from Mosi's expression it was the one thing he shouldn't have mentioned. The color drained from her face until it was a sickly grey. Mosi swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as she turned stiffly away from Arthur, focusing all her attention on Ariadne before asking flatly, "Do you want to help Cobb?"

Ariadne nodded. "Yes."

Mosi gave a curt nod. "Good." Reaching inside her jacket, she pulled out a thin sheaf of paper. "Here's a plane ticket–" She slid her finger across its smooth surface, forcing another piece of paper to appear next to it, turning back with a strained smile to Arthur "– and oh look here's another." Mosi rested her free hand on her hip with fake cheer. "Happy day!" She pressed the tickets to his chest, her unconvincing grin fading along with her fabricated mirth. "Go to LA, get to work." Mosi spared another glance down at Ariadne. "Arthur can fill you in on the details on the way."

That said, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, waving a hand behind her. "I'll be in Córdoba, if you need me, but I should be stateside in a day or two." She disappeared into the hallway without a goodbye.

Ariadne stared at the gaping portal and was about to speak when Mosi's head reappeared in the doorway for a moment, a soft edged smile flashing over her lips. "Oh! Lovely to meet you again, Ari, I'm sure we'll be maader together."

Ariadne sat stock still, suddenly aware of the silence that rushed back into the room with her new boss's departure. "What just happened?"

Arthur collapsed into the couch, looking every bit as disheveled and exhausted as he felt. "Mosi Doust just happened."

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**SLANG 101**

1. Stukkie: Term for a casual female acquaintance, similar connotations to 'girl'

2. Maader: "The best" or "excellent"


	12. Addendums, Part 2

**A/N: Well, my goal for this chapter was a faster update and a longer slice of fiction. I can't say with confidence I've achieved either of those, but I do hope the content of this chapter makes up for it! Thanks to everyone who's been reading – if you haven't dropped me a note or review, feel free! I always love hearing from you guys and I always respond. Thanks again and please enjoy!**

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Night had fallen on Córdoba and the city was glowing with lights. The streets thronged with students off for an evening on the town, businessmen trying to impress their foreign compatriots with the vibrancy of the night life, and ladies of the evening doing their best to please both groups.

For Eames, the night had come to a less than satisfactory end. The Miramar Hotel, where he was staying, was opulent enough for his taste and even included an in-house casino suitably impressive enough to entice him. But that was just the problem. As had happened frequently in his life, Eames had gambled and lost. At least it was only money this time.

He stood in the rising elevator dejectedly, one hand coming up to massage the back of his neck, the other playfully fingering the poker chip in his pocket. The familiar lines and grooves of it did little to ease his pain at this juncture; the Dalwhinne Single Malt Scotch he was planning on charging to room service when he got up to his suite would help.

The cheery ding of the lift set his teeth on edge, but Eames disembarked with only a small glare up at the cameras as he passed. He strode down the hallway, eager to enjoy the privacy of his rooms. Swiping his keycard with surprising speed, he almost didn't notice that the piece of paper he had stuck in between the door and the jamb was now on the floor.

Almost.

His hand rested lightly on the doorknob for a beat. With a disappointed sigh, Eames' reached into his suit jacket for his GP 35. He had so been looking forward to that scotch.

With practiced skill, Eames slid the door open soundlessly, entering quickly and locking the door behind him. No apparent immediate threat, but there were still several things out of place; there were some strange bags sitting in the entryway. A room service cart had been left barren in the space in between the living room and the small kitchenette. A small coat had been draped over the arm of the couch.

Noting all of this, but not stopping to examine them further, Eames moved through the suite steadily, his gun held firmly in his hands, but not cocked. He stopped in the middle of the suite, taking in every detail of his surroundings.

A noise coming from the bathroom ahead and to the right made him start. The door was closed, but the light was clearly on inside. Eames inched towards it cautiously.

Without warning, the portal pulled open. Alarmed, Eames raised his gun to chest level before really seeing what he was pointing at.

What he was pointing at seemed just as alarmed as he was. It gave a loud shout and threw its arms up in defense. Or, at least, threw one arm up. The other was employed holding a towel around its wet frame.

Eames blinked, hard. His vision remained the same, so he presumed he wasn't drunk or hallucinating. "Mosi?"

She nodded her head frantically, her hands coming down and out in front of her. "Eames!"

He dropped the gun down to his side, exhaling with a muttered, "Jesus Christ…" He busied himself with replacing his pistol back into his jacket as Mosi stepped off the raised platform that the bathroom and bedroom occupied. She ran a hand through her wet hair, shaking it out. It splayed out awkwardly over her brow, accentuating the pale blue glare that sat underneath it. "You scared me out of my skin!"

Eames scoffed, throwing a hand out accusatorily. "I scared you?"

The shock of it all was giving way to the humor. Mosi settled on the couch, primly adjusting the terry cloth towel round her chest. She gave a toothy half smile as she said teasingly, "You always walk around your room with a gun out?"

"I do when it's been broken into, yeah." He shoved his hands into his pockets with a sullen look, prompting an injured cry from Mosi.

"What was I supposed to do? Interrupt you?" She leaned back, her feet swinging to and fro. "It seemed like you and the roulette table were really getting along down there. Not to mention the red head loskind hanging all over you." This, at last, elicited the sideways grin from Eames she had been hoping to see. "Figured you'd be busy for at least another hour." He tossed his head to one side in a shrug. Mosi's feet stopped swinging. Her head shook from side to side, but her voice as cheery as ever. "You lost it all again, didn't you?"

Eames nodded unabashedly. "And with the money, the redhead as well. Good thing though –" He took the opportunity to shrug out of his suit jacket, turning slightly to toss it over the back of the nearest chair. "–I would've been hard pressed to explain your current state of undress if I'd swept her up here."

Mosi stepped towards him slowly, a hand coming down to rest on her hip. "I would've thought of something."

Eames hummed in assent, walking past her and into the kitchenette. "Just why are you standing in the middle of my hotel suite with nary but a towel on?"

"Well I was taking a shower, wasn't I?"

The glass clinked on the counter as he sat it down to pour a liberal amount of thick, dark scotch. "Obviously. I meant more a why were you?" He paused, the hand holding the bottle cap gesturing up into the air. "For that matter, why are you here at all?"

"To answer the first question," Mosi stepped lightly around the counter, her bare feet tapping rhythmically on the bare wood floor as she moved off the thick carpet. "I've been on airplanes or in airports for near 24 hours now and was feeling completely disgusting. As for the second question…" Eames tipped his head back to swallow a mouthful of the scotch. Mosi took the opportunity to reach up and loosen the knot of his tie. Her voice was soft and warm, her smile truly relaxed for the first time in days. "Do I need a reason to see one of my oldest friends?"

He sat the glass back down slowly, neither of them breaking eye contact. With a suddenness that utterly failed to surprise him, Mosi wrapped her arms tight around his neck, standing up on her tiptoes to accommodate the difference in height. She rested her head on his shoulder, ignoring the way her damp hair soaked the white oxford under her cheek. "It's good to see you, Eames."

His arms slid round her waist gently. She felt the pressure of his lips on the crown of her head. "You too, Mo. It's been awhile." His rough hands stroked her arms, pulling her away from him gently, his smiling sea foam eyes brushing over her face. "You look good." Eames tightened his grip quickly, unceremoniously pushing her back down to her heels. He brought a thumb up to flick her lower lip, his smile in no way decreasing. "And don't think for a second I can't see right through you, darling."

With feigned chagrin Mosi hunched her shoulders, moving over to the other side of the counter, easing herself up onto one of the bar-stools. Eames took another drink. "Come on, what's up? I thought you had got out for good." His eyes widened slightly. "Sam hasn't…" His gaze intensified as he searched for the appropriate term. "…gone? Has she?"

She shook her head violently, crossing her arms and resting them on the marble top in front of her "No. No, she is as persistent as ever. But Dominic Cobb is more persuasive."

"Cobb?" Eames set down the glass that had been half-way to his lips. He mimicked her position, leaning down with a groan. "Here I thought I was going to get a chance to show my colors and all the heavy hitters are coming out of retirement. What's going on, what's wrong?" The silence that passed between them spoke for itself. "It's Inception, isn't it?"

Her hands hit flat against the counter before she stretched over to grab Eames arm gratefully. "Thank God, finally someone I don't have to explain it to."

Eames drew away to pour himself another glass. "Let me guess: someone wants it." Mosi nodded. "And Cobb's not giving it up." Another nod from Mosi. "Mmm-hmm. And where do you come into this equation?"

Mosi brushed a hand over shoulder, flicking off some errant drops of water. "The man's not taking 'no' for an answer. Cobb wants me to…explain things to him."

"Extraction? Blackmail?" Mosi raised her eyebrows in consent. Eames leaned back onto the heels of his feet. "That doesn't seem like Cobb's style."

"Extreme circumstances." She leaned in, head lolling lazily to one side. "The man who won't listen? Rafe Toporak."

His confusion gave way to disbelief, a dubious laugh escaping his lips. "You're joking."

She shook her head slowly. "Wish I was. And he's making some pretty serious threats. Cobb's family."

Eames toyed with his glass, eyes focusing on the swimming blocks of ice, his mind miles away. "Damn." He leaned in, hands resting flat on the counter-top. "Who else have you got?"

"Besides you?" Eames smile sufficed for assent. Mosi's face brightened considerably, the dark circles that were beginning to form under her eyes, giving them a strange luster by comparison. "I just picked up an Architect, Ariadne, in Paris." He nodded expectantly, sensing the words restrained on her tongue. She attempted to mask the pause by rising from her seat, turning her back to him as she adjusted the towel around her legs. "Arthur's taking point."

Eames watched her carefully from over the rim of his glass. He knocked back the last mouthful of his drink to conceal a mirthless laugh. "You two are…working together, then?"

Mosi didn't turn around. "Ostensibly." She twisted her head, speaking over her shoulder. "I'm really going to need your support on this one, Eames. In more ways than one." She wrapped her arms tight around herself. "He's never really met Sam. And the girl, she doesn't know about her at all."

Eames came around the counter, nodding slowly. "I can see where that'd be a concern. Especially with Arthur around." He stood behind her at a distance. "She could make things bloody difficult."

With a sigh, Mosi turned, walking past him without meeting his gaze, heading for the bed where her suitcase sat gaping open. "You have no idea."

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Sitting in the leather backed seat in first class, Ariadne found her thoughts wandering away from the midterms she was missing and returning again and again to the unexpected nature of her recruitment. Unexpected, the little voice in her head chimed, but certainly not unwanted. She squirmed in her seat, suddenly unable to find a comfortable position. The hairs on her arms were standing up straight, tingling and tickling her skin. She told herself it was the cold conditions of the cabin. But the guilt she felt eating away at her stomach wouldn't let her believe her own lie.

Ariadne needed distraction. She had, tucked away in her bag, a handful of scholarly articles on the nature of architecture that she needed to read through for her dissertation in spring. They were dry, straight-forward, and incredibly unprepossessing.

She turned her attention to the man sitting across the aisle. Arthur seemed placid enough. A half empty glass of white wine sat on the table near his elbow. He was using the light coming in through the window to read a book. From what she could see of the text, it appeared to be in German. Seeing as how languages had never been her strong suit, she spent several amusing and challenging minutes working out the title; _Träume eines Geistersehers _or _Dreams of a Spirit Seer_, by Immanuel Kant.

"Arthur?" He looked up, a quizzical quirk to his eyebrows as he turned to face her. Ariadne knew, somewhere inside, that intentionally pushing his buttons was a bad idea at best, rude and manipulative at worst. But she found herself in a position where self-reflection or the study of others were her only two options; she always found others so much more fascinating, and safer to boot. She leaned over the edge of the aisle, propping her body up on the wide armrest as she queried, "Mosi Doust. Who is she?"

With a belabored sigh, Arthur retrieved his bookmark from his vest pocket, shutting the book with a snap and laying it on his lap. He sat still for a moment, his eyes closed. Ariadne surmised that he had been waiting for this moment. He probably had his story all prepared. Which was just as well. Sometimes the rationalizations were more revealing than the truths. At last he returned to the moment at hand, turning towards again and stating flatly, "She's someone Cobb and I used to work with. Way back, when we were first getting started."

Ariadne watched his cool veneer carefully for cracks. "Cobb trusts her." Arthur nodded, adjusting slightly in his seat and crossing his legs in front of him. "But you don't." A quick flash of a grimace was his only response. "Why not?"

"She's dangerous." Arthur wasn't looking at Ariadne anymore. His gaze was focused intently on the red carpet of the aisle. What images or memories he was calling up she could only guess. But the sternness of his expression and the way his hand was gripping the armrest until his knuckles blanched left little to the imagination. He returned his attention to her with an intensity that made her sit back in her chair. "She's a criminal."

Her laughter, as disingenuous as it was, provided the relief from tension she so desperately needed. "No offense, but aren't you too? Aren't I, now?"

Arthur refused to smile; which was, Ariadne noted, his general state of being. But his stoicism was generally in a friendlier vein than the stonewalling she was currently receiving. "It's different." Arthur straightened his tie self-consciously, leaning forward, one hand gesticulating in front of him. "Look: we steal information. It's not legal, but for the most part, no one gets hurt. Mosi Doust?" He shook his head vehemently. "She doesn't care who she hurts. The people she calls friends? They're murderers, Ariadne. Pimps, drug dealers, and worse." Arthur leaned back in his seat, slouching down. "That's the world she lives in, that's where she comes from – that's who she is. She's base and cruel and she'd sell out her own mother for the right price."

This was going better than Ariadne had anticipated. Any thoughts of inconvenient self-reflection had been drowned out in her newfound curiosity. "How'd you meet her?"

Arthur moved his book onto the table, staring at the cover blankly. "I honestly don't remember."

Ariadne took that to mean the conversation was over. After all, how could one reply to so blatant a lie?

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**Slang 101**

1. Loskind - A really slutty girl, usually wears revealing clothes and is easy to get with


	13. Arthur's Brief Part 1

**A/N: In which our mysterious heroine's past is first recounted! Are you excited? 'Cause I know I am :-D Seriously though, I hope y'all enjoy this next chapter – I certainly enjoyed writing it and I hope it shows! Thank you so much for reading and thanks also to all those who have reviewed or messaged me. Please feel free to give me any criticism or advice you feel moved to voice, I always love hearing from my readers!**

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Of course, Arthur did remember. He thumbed the pages of his book, opening it back up with a sigh. The words swam before his eyes and on some level, he was reading them. But despite his best efforts, Ariadne's questions had trigged a flood of memories for him and a desire, however slight, to return to that day he first met Mosi Doust; to trace his distaste for her back to its genesis.

The truth was Arthur had begun to dislike her before they'd even met. It wasn't fair, but there's no apologizing for human nature. It was Cobb's suggestion to bring in a third member and Miles' recommendation that led them to Mosi. It was a year or so after Mal's death when Cobb had contacted him and a couple of months after their first extraction job together. It hadn't gone entirely as planned, that was true. But Arthur had been of the opinion that they would find their footing as they went along. Cobb wasn't willing to wait to gain skill through experience – not anymore. He wanted a guide, a person who was more familiar with dreamsharing for profit than he, Arthur was fairly certain they didn't want to get involved with people like that.

All the same, Cobb had gone to Miles and Miles had given them a name. Just a name and a PO Box: Mo Doust, 23072. They had sent a note and received one back. It was a cordial response, at the least, stating Mo's willingness to meet with them, asking for a time and a place. Arthur had left the details to Cobb this time, washing his hands of the whole affair. He wasn't sure who this 'Mo' guy was, but he was fairly certain he didn't want to find out.

At the time they were working out of a warehouse several blocks away from the University in the less-than-fashionable side of Paris. As far as they could tell, no one really owned it as such, so rent wasn't an issue. Nor was it far away enough for residential areas to be a favorite with ravers or the homeless.

Being one for creature comforts, it was Arthur who had scrounged up the tables, chairs, and other furniture that dotted the dusty floor. Whether or not Cobb approved of their new surroundings, he couldn't tell. As a matter of fact, he was having a hard time getting much of anything out of his friend. It wasn't that Cobb was morose or withdrawn, or even angry – any of those he could have understood.

It was the focus. This driving focus on the job, on the dream, on work, that Arthur just couldn't break through. Everything else, even him, was background noise, peripheral. There were times, of course, when Cobb was almost his old self; a smile, a joke, a familiar mannerism that Arthur took comfort in. But more often than naught, it seemed he wasn't really there. Even when you were talking to him, Cobb was lost somewhere in his own head.

Which was precisely where Arthur was wandering on that sweltering summer day in August. Sunlight was forcing itself through the cracks in the boarded up windows, casting fractured patterns on the floor. Arthur was running diagnostics on one of the PASIVs, more out of habit and boredom than any real need. He had done it enough times that the process was fairly automatic. While his hands busied themselves with knobs, tubes, and dials, his mind jumped from thought to thought without direction. Cobb had yet to arrive, even though the message he'd left on Arthur's cell had specifically said 2:30. Still he was enjoying the time alone, the time when he didn't have to pretend not to be worried, the time when he could lose himself in the routine of work and the soothing music pouring into his ears from his MP3player.

Arthur found himself drifting particularly far away from the present during a particular set of chord progressions when he felt the pressure of a hand on his shoulder. It took several moments for his mind to return to itself, but his body was more than ready to respond. He jumped away, his hands coming up in defense, eyes darting wildly.

It was disconcerting to watch his movements mirrored in the body next to him, as well as hearing the surprised shout issuing forth from them. However, the confusion gave him the several seconds he needed to regain his thoughts and recognize the young woman who had suddenly and inexplicably appeared beside him as a person, not a specter.

Her hands were thrown up protectively as she backed away, trainers scuffling against the dirt and dust of the concrete floor. "I'm sorry!" She shook her head as she swallowed hard, her wide grey eyes flicking close as she struggled through her shock for words. "I'm so so sorry, I thought," Arthur pulled out his ear-buds quickly, as she continued to ramble on, gesticulating wildly "I was calling you from the door but you didn't say anything, I didn't see the," she waved at his headphones frantically.

Arthur saw his opportunity to step in and took it, stepping forward smoothly. "No, no, it's okay." The woman dropped her hands to her side, taking a deep breath. "Are you alright?"

The woman paused for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes before laughing, her entire body relaxing as she allowed the soft sound to trickle out of her lips, like melted ice cream down a cone. "Yeah!" She pushed her long fingers through her short hair. "Yeah, I'm fine!" She fanned herself dramatically, resting one hand akimbo on her hip. "Just got my adrenaline pumping, thought you were going to take a swing at me!"

Arthur responded with the slightest smile. It was a reflex of politeness with no real warmth behind it. The young woman read his discomfort more readily than he would have liked, putting on a surprised look as she extended her hand. "Oh, it's Mosi Doust - pleasure." Arthur took it cordially enough, but there must have been a blankness in his stare that prompted more. Mosi leaned forward as they shook, her eyes narrowing conspiratorially. "Miles may have introduced me as Mo?"

This, at last, fully refocused his attention. "You're – you're Mo?"

Mosi slipped by him, literally brushing front to front, a skip in her step as she exclaimed, "That's me!" She hopped up onto the low table, legs swinging slightly. Arthur turned towards her, with what intent he never did quite remember. What he did remember was Mosi leaning forward and picking his headphones from round his neck. "What you listening to?" Inserting one of the buds carefully, she cocked her head thoughtfully to one side, eventually moving her hand ever so slightly along with the music. After a moment or so, she removed the piece from her ear, sighing slightly as she spoke. "Edith Piaf. Interesting choice." Mosi held out the headphones.

Arthur took them, making no reply as he carefully switched off his iPod and placed it on the table next to Mosi's hip, his eyes never moving from her face. He supposed that anyone else would have found the concentrated stare off-putting, even though it was born merely out of deep confusion. But Mosi was not anyone. In fact, she seemed to find it extremely amusing, placing her hands palm down around the edges of the table and leaning forward with a smirk. "Am I not what you expected, Mr. Cobb?"

"What? No!" Arthur blinked rapidly; shaking his head as he consciously calmed his nerves. "No, I mean, I'm not Cobb." He held out a hand hesitantly. "Ah, I'm Arthur."

"Oh!" Mosi shook his hand, straightening up in her surprise. She let her head fall to one side as she nodded. "The point man. Yes, Miles mentioned you." He released her hand from his grip, expecting it to fall back to her side. Mosi had other plans though, reaching forward farther to lay her exceedingly light fingertips on the knot of his tie, adjusting it slightly. "He didn't do you justice." A salacious smile reflected in her dark grey eyes. Arthur took a step back, shoving his hands in his pockets with uncharacteristic haste.

There was a pause as Mosi took his physical rebuttal in stride, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she leaned back, none of the brightness fading from her demeanor. "So! How can I help you?"

Arthur shrugged, walking slowly round to the other side of the table. "I'm not sure. To be honest," he stopped to send a smile Mosi's way, hoping it wasn't as mirthless as he felt, "I don't think we need any help. We're doing fine."

Mosi, who had been following his movement carefully, turned her head back to face front, screening her expression from him. "Huh!" It was a simple enough utterance, but it carried a certain sense of disbelief. Not much, but just enough to grate on Arthur's nerves. "That's not how Miles described it." She slid down off the table, landing with a thud and turning round with an energetic hop. Mosi leaned her elbows down on the table, her hips swaying to and fro as she looked him in the eye. "Said you were a bit…green."

Whether she had mentioned this in an attempt to wound his pride or whether she was merely honest and insensitive, Arthur couldn't tell. However he decided abruptly that he didn't give a damn as to her intentions – her actions were proving aggravating enough without knowing her motives. He felt his shoulders muscles tense painfully tight. "And just how much experience in dreamsharing do you have, Ms. Doust?"

Mosi stood up slowly, taking a step back from the table, replying flatly, "More than my fair share."

"Really."

It was comforting to see that Mosi was not as accomplished at hiding her emotions. The condescending smile obviously ruffled her, her arms pulling themselves tight across her chest. "I'm not as young as I look, you know."

Arthur returned to the other side of the table, trailing his fingers along the edge as he walked towards her. "What are you, twenty-two?" Some of the color drained out of her face. His smile widened slightly. "Twenty-one?"

Mosi turned to follow him, leaning her lower back against the table. He stood across from her, face open, expectant, and mocking. She slouched down even farther. "I'll be twenty in a month." He laughed. He couldn't not. She pushed herself off of the table, foot stomping on the concrete loudly. "And I've been involved in extraction since I was twelve."

Arthur meandered over to the tattered arm chair he had scrounged up to give the place a little color, still chuckling quietly. "You're kidding."

Mosi let out a high pitched sigh, a lazy laugh that ended with a groan. "Frequently!" She mellowed out quickly, treating him to a blank stare. "But not about that." His lack of response pushed her further. "You want a further CV?" She walked towards him slowly, ticking items off on one hand. "I can take apart a PASIV in under five minutes, I can make most of the compounds myself, and I guarantee I can teach you things about extraction that you never knew." She rested her free hand against the back of the chair, smiling down at him with a cruel tilt to her lips. "But, seeing as how this is your first job, I assume that's just about everything."

"Second job." The voice came from the doorway at the far end of the warehouse. They both turned to see Cobb leaning on the frame nonchalantly, a tired smile on his face. "And I'm sure there's a lot we could both learn from each other." He strode into the room, closing the distance quickly. "Dominic Cobb – sorry I'm a little bit late, I was held up on the phone."

Arthur understood what that meant. It meant that he'd been talking to the kids; hence the pain barely covered with this business like politeness. He found himself glaring up at Mosi, as if he somehow blamed her for his friend's unhappiness. He shook himself and got up from the chair in a fluid movement.

Mosi's posture straightened as she took the hand he extended. "Mosi Doust, it's a pleasure."

Cobb cocked his head slightly to one side, holding her hand an extra beat. "South African?"

Mosi's face lit up, her eyes widening slightly in her delight. "Very good! Most people aren't as quick." She looked over her shoulder at Arthur, her eyebrows still piqued in surprise. He meandered past the pair, returning to his PASIV without returning her look.

Arthur could feel Cobb's eyes on his back. "I see you've already met Arthur." Arthur looked up at the sound of his name and felt the flame of his annoyance flamed further by the amused smile on his friend's face.

Mosi didn't even turn around. But there was a sardonic humor in the flatness of her response: "Oh yes. We're becoming firm friends."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Cobb's smile widened. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Mosi looked at Arthur from the corner of her eyes and said nothing. In the back of his mind, Arthur found himself wishing she would say something. As tiresome as he had found her speech thus far, there was the hint of some dark, unknown in her silence. At last, with an overabundance of exuberance, she turned on her heels, encompassing both of them in the wide, dramatic swoop of her arms. "Well! Gentlemen – should we get started?"

And they did. For three years they worked together. Things never got any better. At best, they got more complicated and twisted. Arthur could feel a headache beginning behind his eyes, the constant hum of the engines doing little to help. He shut his book, casting a glance over at Ariadne. She was asleep, slumped a little in her chair, a pen still held lightly in one hand, a dry looking article spread out on the desk in front of her.

He turned back to his window, closing his own eyes with a deep sigh. He was glad she was asleep, glad to have a few moments at least truly alone with his thoughts. He brought a hand up to his eyes, caressing his eyelids gently with his fingers. He had the job to think on, not to mention how he was going to pick up the life he'd started when it was over. It had been hard enough the first time to try and go on without Cobb. He had a feeling it would be no easier this time.

And yet, with all this to concern himself with, his thoughts returned, again and again, unprovoked and wantonly to Mosi Doust. To how it felt to see her again, to how different she was from when they first met (and not for the better, he was quick to quantify), and to how he was going to work with her after all that had happened.


	14. Withholding

**A/N: Life is a curious thing. Today, it brings you all a long overdue chapter that you will hopefully consume with great pleasure! Lately, for me, it hasn't been so nice. But we are moving forward! Hopefully the updates will return to their past level of frequency. Thank you to everyone who left feedback for the last chapter, it was very much appreciated – if you haven't dropped a line yet, please feel free to do so! I love hearing from everyone out there on the internets; good, bad, or indifferent.**

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After being held up in Houston by a snow front for twelve hours, both Arthur and Ariadne were more than relieved to finally reach the sunny climes of L.A., even if that sun was fighting its way through a thick layer of smog. After collecting their luggage from the claim area, Arthur hailed a taxi, directing him to the address that Mosi had slipped into his airline ticket folder on a ragged sheet of paper wrapped around a rusty key.

The yellow cab wound its way through the crowded, traffic-choked streets, inching its way deeper and deeper into the urbanity that was the City of Angels. Arthur remained unusually stoic, staring out the window without really looking, responding to Ariadne with short answers, if any at all.

Seeing as how Arthur seemed dedicated to his detachment, Ariadne was forced to think of the situation in which she currently found herself. She debated whether or not she should tell her family she was in town. But they would only have a lot of questions for her and she didn't feel ready to answer them; she could lie to them, certainly – make up some story about needing a break from grad school or finishing her finals early. But she couldn't lie to herself.

And the truth was that she didn't know why she was doing this. But she had wanted it. So bad. And that scared her. For the most part, Ariadne considered herself very even-keeled. She was an intellectual. This desire, this draw – it came from the gut, from deep down in the dark part of her soul where she didn't bother shining a light – she preferred to shine it on others.

She was worried that it wouldn't work that way this time.

So engrossed was she with these thoughts, that she was hardly aware of the passage of the taxi – that is, until Arthur sighed deeply.

"Ah, hell…"

Ariadne forced herself to actually look out the window. The setting was somewhat less than cheerful. Where exactly in L.A. they were, she couldn't tell. The buildings were in various states of decay, some merely sporting a grunge covered façade, others practically rotting, wooden boards festering behind rusted wrought iron bars. The doorways were home to various bedraggled persons, taking big slugs out of brown paper bags or curled up, presumably asleep, faces barely showing. There was a collection of women sitting outside a convenience store on the corner, one or two of them getting up whenever a car drove slowly by. One of them locked eyes with Ariadne for a moment, still conversing with the john in the car, adjusting her chest so it was shown off to its greatest advantage.

"Uh, Arthur?" Ariadne turned slowly in her seat, one eye continually drawn out the window. "Where are we?"

"Great." Arthur watched a police car cruise by; a scowl firmly entrenched on his face. "Just when we don't want the cops involved, she puts us in the middle of a crime zone."

The cab slowed to a stop up the street from the corner store. Arthur stared at the boarded-up building despondently for a moment before pushing his door open to retrieve the luggage from the trunk. Ariadne stepped out onto the sidewalk, blinking in the California sunshine. It was a wide, three-story affair. What was left of the outer walls hinted that it might have been painted a light blue in happier days. The windows were boarded up with graying pieces of wood. Here and there a chunk had fallen out from rot, but for the most part the building looked completely shut up. Shallow steps led to a large door, some sallow-looking gold leaf clinging on for dear life.

"I think this might've been a hotel," she posited aloud, glancing back over her shoulder.

Arthur got his change back from the cabbie and walked around the tail of the car as it sped away, handing Ariadne her luggage. "I doubt it's habitable at this point; looks pretty run down."

They trumped up the stairs, suitcases in hand. Arthur removed the key from his pants pocket. As rusted over as both it and the lock appeared, it slipped into the tumblers effortlessly and turned without protest. He pushed the door open with his foot, wheeling in his luggage behind him.

Nothing could have been as disparate as the outside of the ramshackle building and it's interior. The entrance opened up into a wide lobby that took up the majority of the first floor. The thick blue carpet was worn through in several places, especially at the edge of the wide steps that led down to the check-in desk and lounge area. Smooth oak coffee tables dotted the floor, with various antique chairs, several still hidden under billowing white tarps. The sunlight coming in through the holes in the boarded up windows, combined with the copious number of lamps gave the room a warm, well-lit atmosphere that was almost homey.

Ariadne let the door close behind her, staying on the landing with her bags as Arthur slowly stepped down onto the main floor, looking about appreciatively and nodding. "Wow. This…this is nice. Huh."

"You haven't even seen the rooms yet–" On the second floor landing, Dom shut the door to one of the said rooms behind him, smiling as he made his way down the stairs. "– clean sheets and everything." He skipped the final step, coming down on the carpeted floor with a loud thud. "What Mosi has on this guy, I shudder to think."

Arthur strode forward, holding his rolling luggage up in one hand as he passed Cobb, heading for the stairs. "For once, I don't think I mind."

They shared a smile as they passed each other, but exchanged no other greeting. None was necessary – they had done this a thousand times. As Arthur went up to arrange his things, Cobb moved towards Ariadne, with just the slightest bit of hesitation. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, but he forced himself to look her in the eyes. "Hey, Ariadne."

Ariadne met his anxiety with the most easy-going expression she had in her repertoire, walking down the last few steps to meet him. "Hey!" It was the most she could muster and she soon found herself mimicking his reclusive posture. The silence twisted round them like a garrote. Ariadne's throat felt tight and dry as she choked out, "How are you holding up?"

Cobb shrugged his shoulders. "Well enough." Ariadne kept her gaze steady. Cobb sighed through gritted teeth, lowering his head. "It does feel strange being on this side of things."

Ariadne held her hands tightly behind her back, looking away suddenly. "I can imagine."

Her voice was unaccountably quiet and she knew it. She cleared her throat and shifted in place, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

His hand felt light and warm against her shoulder. She looked back at him when he reached for her and felt the color rise to her face as he said, "Thanks for coming, Ariadne. It means a lot."

And she could see that it really did. This made her own motives for coming all the more unthinkable and convinced her fully that she would try her best to put them entirely out of her mind. She smiled tightly, subtly shrugging his hand off of her shoulder as she responded flippantly, "Of course. Where else would I be?"

Cobb took a step back. She could feel his eyes on her skin, which just made her blush more. It seemed like an eternity before a welcome, familiar voice broke the silence. "Ah! Must've found the right place."

Eames stood in the foyer; a short brown coat thrown over his arm, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder carelessly, slightly unzipped. He ambled down the stairs smiling in his same tired way. "For a moment I was worried." He threw the bag into the nearest chair with a satisfying thunk, tossing his coat over the check-in counter. "Lovely place you have here, Cobb – glad to see you putting your ill-gotten gains to good use."

Cobb shrugged, smiling good naturedly. "Property like this in L.A., you gotta buy low." They shook hands, each one looking a little happier than they had a moment before. "Thanks for coming."

Eames shrugged off the appreciation as well he could, shoving his hands in his pants pockets as he meandered toward Ariadne. "Well anything that promises to be extremely dangerous is my idea of entertainment, you know." Eames flicked a tassel from the end of her scarf from in front of her shoulder to behind, his voice dropping slightly in pitch and tone. "You are looking lovely, my dear."

Ariadne took a small step back, running a hand through her hair as she returned a wavering smile. "It's good to see you too, Eames."

She was relieved when something drew his laughing sea foam eyes from her face. "I suppose you already picked the best room for yourself?"

Ariadne turned to watch Arthur as he dropped from the last few steps onto the landing. He had removed his suit jacket and was rolling his sleeves up to his elbow. He fixed Eames with a bored stare, cocking his head to one side. "Yes, I have the extreme pleasure of being able to watch the prostitutes on the corner at my leisure." Eames raised an eyebrow, his thumb brushing his lower lip as he concealed a laugh. Arthur refused to respond further, walking past him as he inquired, "So, where's Mosi?"

"She had to make a stop off at UCLA–" Eames folded his arms across his chest, surveying the sea of armchairs carefully before collapsing into one. "– she's picking up our chemist."

Cobb's forehead creased as he stepped towards the recumbent forger. "She's not using Yusuf?"

"No, said she'd prefer working with someone she knows." Eames adjusted himself in the chair to maximize his comfort, noting Cobb's anxiety with little concern. "But Mo's always been picky about her chemists, you know that."

Ariadne leaned against the back of Eames' chair. "Why?"

"Her father was one." Ariadne looked at Eames blankly. He continued, waving his hand matter-of-factly. "He practically invented most of the compounds we use."

"Some of the compounds." Arthur cut in pointedly, leaning back against the check-in counter, elbows resting on the pitted wood behind him. Eames shrugged, settling further back into the cushions.

"Seriously?" Ariadne looked around from face to face, finding no expressions that would lead her to believe they were exaggerating. Her brows shot up over her eyes. "I had no idea."

Eames glanced up at her, a small, tight smile appearing on his lips. "You're going to find there are a lot of things about Mosi you don't know."

Ariadne looked down into his eyes, head cocked slightly to one side. "Why?"

"She's very private."

Suddenly, the door flung open with a sharp crack. By the time they all turned their eyes to the entry way, Mosi was already well inside, each hand clutching two or three bags – she must have kicked the door open. She breathed in deep through her nose as she paused there on the vestibule, casting her arms wide. "Ah! Lovely." With an almost cursory, fleeting look she took in the rest of the team. Her look of contentment was quickly replaced with something akin to boredom. Mosi released her breath in a sigh, moving quickly down the front steps to reveal the slight, suited man behind her. "Everyone, Colin Jackson; Colin, everyone." Without any further greeting she moved quickly through the lobby and up the steps, taking them two at a time with bold leaps. The team watched with blank expressions as she made her way to the first floor room closest to the stairs and slammed the door shut.

Colin watched Mosi's departure with a vaguely panicked expression, his soft brown eyes widening slightly. He recovered with grace however, making his way down the steps with an easy smile, throwing his long black coat over one arm and extending his hand. "Hi – it's nice to meet you all."

Cobb took his hand, smiling, but his eyes stayed fixed on the closed hotel room door. He and Eames shared a look, Eames answering with a slight shrug before turning his attention back to the man in front of him. Cobb took the opportunity to slip away from the group, heading up the stairs as quietly as he could. Arthur watched him from the corner of his eye, but said nothing as he knocked on the cherry wood and entered.

The rooms were spacious and voluptuous to the point of ridiculousness. The hotel, at its peak in the 60s, had been styled, as was the fashion at the time, after the prohibition speakeasy hotels of the 20s. The floors were covered with a luscious, deep red carpet. A large wooden wardrobe stood against the wall, perpendicular to a large arched window. A queen bed sat opposite decked out in what was obviously freshly laundered black sheets and comforter. The bathroom opened onto the main room, the pearl white sink and vanity mirror looking out onto the rest of the space.

In the particular room that Cobb had just entered, a pile of beat up tan colored luggage rested atop the bed. The wardrobe stood partly open, the bottom drawer pulled out, a single white towel missing from the stack. As the door clicked shut behind him, Cobb heard the tap in the bathroom turn on. His hand came up to rub his jaw and he stood, leaning back on the doorknob. The tap turned off again. A low groan came from the direction of the bathroom. The lines of worry on his forehead melted away as he smiled. He walked slowly into the room, leaning against the corner of the wall that lead into the bathroom.

Mosi stood in front of the sink, her back towards him. A wet towel was held up to her face, her elbows resting on the tile around the sink. She straightened up when Cobb began to talk, but the towel remained.

"How are you?"

There was a pause as the face behind the towel considered. "I'm okay."

Cobb sat down heavily on the foot of the bed, sighing as he chided. "Don't lie."

The towel growled, Mosi at last appearing from behind it. She glared at him, but the look had no sharpness in it. She tossed the towel behind her, moving to lean back against the bathroom counter, feet crossing in front of her. "I'm holding up."

"Nervous?"

She tossed her head back cavalierly, a smile slicing across her face. "Ha!" The flat expression in his staring blue eyes cowed her slightly, the gash of a smile scabbing over quickly. "Yes." Mosi threw her arms across her chest. "I never was terribly good at the fearless leader bit."

His elbows resting lightly on his knees, Cobb laced his fingers together thoughtfully. "Is that it?"

"Is that what?"

"Taking point?" Cobb's head fell gently to one side, his gaze shifting away from her face for a moment. "Is that really what's bothering you?"

One of Mosi's hands came up to toy with the small heart pendant on the chain around her neck. "If I say yes, are you gonna tell me not to lie?"

Cobb cleared his throat, pulling himself taunt on the bed as he contained a laugh. "No."

Mosi dropped the pendant, using the same hand to shake out her hair. "Then, yes – I'm terrified of the responsibility, oh woe is me, I'm so ill-equipped and unbalanced." She turned her back towards him, hanging the hand towel back over its silver bar. "Satisfied?"

Cobb stood, hands raised defensively. "Hey, you know that with me, your business is your business. I just thought you might want somebody to talk to." Mosi didn't respond, watching him in the mirror with a detached interest. Cobb shrugged, hands falling into his pockets as he made his way towards the door. "I'll tell everyone you'll be down in a few."


	15. Standards

**A/N: I would like to call this the beginning of the snowball – things are starting here, things that will have consequences, intentional and unintentional. And I am just as excited as you to see what happens! But you know how a snowball gets bigger, don't you? It's all downhill from here… **

**Thanks again to everyone who read or reviewed last time. I'd like to welcome you all to message me or send a review letting me know what you think – good, bad, or indifferent, I love to hear your feedback and try to improve!**

* * *

Eames watched Cobb come slowly down the stairs, one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at his feet. Eames allowed him to descend unmolested, but as soon as he reached the ground floor, he called out to him. "Is she okay?"

Cobb looked up, shaking his head and his frown away. "She's fine – non-stop traveling for days can take a toll on you, you know that."

Arthur leaned over the back of one of the lounge chairs, hands clasped in front, a smile playing across his features. "Here I thought she was just being her normal, cheerful self."

Cobb didn't deign to respond, fixing Arthur with a cold stare before turning pointedly towards the new addition to the group. Colin had thrown his duffel on top of the check in counter and was ruffling through it. Cobb meandered over. "So, Colin – UCLA. You a student or –"

Colin didn't take his eyes off his bag but smiled wide, a charming white smile against his cool brown skin. "Professor. Advanced Neurophysiology. I specialize in brain chemistry and sleep studies."

Eames threw his hands up into the air blithely. "Naturally."

Ariadne looked on from her seat. "How'd you get involved in extraction?"

"Mosi. She was a TA for a class I was teaching and…illuminated me to the possible application of my more experimental projects." He shrugged half-heartedly. "Grant money is hard to come by and my work doesn't exactly pay for itself."

"A TA? Really?" Ariadne shot Colin a look of disbelief. , adjusting her scarf with one hand as she shook out her hair with the other. "She didn't strike me as the college type."

"Oh, Mosi's been to plenty of Universities." Eames glanced up at the ceiling contemplatively. "Never graduated, of course, but attended."

"After she forged her way in."

Eames glanced up at the disapproving Arthur imploringly, hands stretched out in front of him. "Well how else was she going to get admitted, it's not like she finished high school."

Ariadne started in her seat. "What?"

"Never really saw the point in a diploma–" Mosi jogged down the stairs, stepping over the last three in one long stride. "I'm already a genius, why do I need a piece of paper to prove it?"

Arthur leaned his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes in a barely concealed wince. "Your humility is just overwhelming."

Mosi sighed dramatically, pausing a moment to bring a hand to her chest. "I know. I have so many good qualities I can barely contain myself." She made her way across the room as she spoke, walking purposefully; head held high, her limbs relaxed but every muscle of her body clearly under control. Ariadne wondered what Cobb had said to her to evoke such a change in demeanor. Or perhaps, she considered as she watched the woman perch herself on the arm of Arthur's chair, pointedly oblivious to the fact that he wanted to rest his hand there, it had nothing to do with Cobb at all. Mosi looked down at Arthur seriously, her brow creasing. "It's okay to be jealous."

Arthur stared back up at her, his face blank and immovable. Mosi held his gaze for a moment before abruptly turning away, standing up in a swirl and hooking her arm under Colin's. "Colin, I think there's a space big enough in the ballroom to set up your stuff – nice wide bar, near outlets- " She lead him towards the back of the room, opening the door with a flourish and allowing him to step inside, the rest of her pitch unintelligible from such distance.

Cobb took advantage of the group's distracted nature to cross quickly to Arthur, leaning down. "I gotta go."

Arthur was on his feet in a moment, walking with him towards the door. "Trouble?"

Cobb shook his head, smiling at Arthur's seemingly natural pessimism. "No – just have to pick up the kids from Miles."

Arthur nodded, slowing as they reached the steps that lead up to the door. "Okay, I'll keep you in the loop."

"Dom!" The two men turned as Mosi ran towards them from the ballroom. She reached them grinning, taking a breath before opening her mouth to speak. She closed it abruptly, glancing pointedly at Arthur. He took the cue, rolling his eyes as he stepped back to join the others.

Ariadne was staring contemplatively up at the ceiling, examining the architecture with a carefully trained eye. Eames had mysteriously procured a flask from somewhere about his person, leaning contemplatively against the check-in desk as he sipped. Arthur glanced back over his shoulder at Mosi and Cobb, huddled close on the top step of the foyer. He set his jaw, teeth clenching tight, wondering, as he often had in the past, how Cobb could trust someone like her. Especially after everything that had happened. He watched as she slipped a small piece of paper into his hand, giving him her customary pat on the cheek as he turned away to leave. Arthur threw himself into the nearest chair.

Mosi wafted past, arms swinging to and fro, sparing him nary a glance. "Colin!" She shouted into the open ballroom. "Stop playing with yourself and get in here." Turning smartly on her heel, she clapped her hands together, running her tongue across her bottom lip. Colin filed in, a test tube held lightly in one hand, frameless glasses sliding down his nose.

"Right! Couple things before we get started–" Mosi hopped up onto the check-in counter, sliding her hands across the smooth wood. "–first, we have less than four weeks to get this thing done, so I hope nobody was planning on getting a decent amount of sleep this month." She began swinging her legs back and forth, tapping them lightly against the front of the counter, eyes fixated on the motion. "Second, at this point, none of us are getting paid. Cobb's been kind enough to provide us with a small expense account–"

"When?"

Mosi met Arthur's eyes slowly. The indignant tone of his voice hung in the air. Mosi took in a deep breath, letting her head fall to one side. "Just now." Running a hand through her damp black hair, she turned away pointedly, scowling slightly as she picked up the thread of her former train of thought. "–a small expense account so we have some money to throw around on this, but don't rely on it. Last…" Her feet stopped swinging.

She brought the heart pendant to her lips, drawing it along the skin there as her eyes glazed over. Mosi jumped down, pausing a moment longer, leaning one hand back against the wood. Eyes fixed on the floor; she wandered down the length of the counter, speaking slowly. "The stakes on this are very high. And I mean individually high. The man we're going after has reach." Mosi glanced up, her eyes catching Eames'. "And a reputation for violence." She breathed in deep, puffing out her cheeks before moving forward at an increased rate, her speech keeping up with her steps. "This isn't some corporation that'll track you down and put a bullet in you if you screw with them, this… Rafe Toporak is a horse of a different color. He will take us apart and we will all die screaming if this thing goes south."

Mosi stopped, turning abruptly on one heel and propping herself up against the wall; her arms crossed themselves tightly across her chest as she surveyed each person in the room. "Which is why I won't let it. Which is why I'll need everyone in this room working at the top of their game. If you don't think you can do that for me – me personally – leave."

No one moved.

Mosi smiled softly, pushing herself out of her recumbent position and moving rapidly around the room. "Ariadne – mazes! Labyrinths. The most complicated you can make, we're gonna need all the cover we can get on this. Just start with the basic layouts for now, we'll worry about the architecture once we have some more information. Which Arthur," Mosi leaned onto the back of his chair, her smile widening perceptibly as he looked up at her, "should be getting us shortly. I want everything. His whole life story. And specifics mind – the jobs he's worked, his skill set, does he have any family, friends, business associates, what's his favorite color – everything. You find anything useful as far as associates, pass it on to Eames." She walked towards the forger, rubbing the back of her neck thoughtfully. "We'll have to come at it a little sidewise, but it may be that we can fool him into thinking you're just one of his projections – depending on who, it could be very useful."

Eames glanced up, looking bored. "Certainly."

"Oh, by the way, does everyone know how to use one of these?" She reached behind her and into her light coat, pulling out a small handgun and glancing beseechingly around the room. Ariadne shook her head. "Well you're gonna learn. There's a big meat freezer down in the basement – doesn't work anymore, course, but it'll do for a shooting range." Mosi returned her attention back to the recumbent Englishman. "Think you can handle that side of things, ou balie?"

Eames adjusted his loose fitting jacket around with a sound of displeasure. "Who you calling an old man?" Mosi only smiled sweetly in response, making no attempt to apologize. Eames shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, sure."

"Kiff!" Mosi spun round on one heel, sighing happily. "Let's get to work then."

* * *

**SLANG 101**

1. Kiff! - Excellent!


	16. Procedures

**A/N: I know! It's been an unforgivably long time since I've updated and for that, I deeply and sincerely apologize. Life started to catch up on me here in dream world and needed some looking after. But I think I've turned a corner and I can get back to basics – meaning this story of course! This chapter is a little longer than most, so hopefully that at least partially makes up for the wait.**

**Thanks again to everyone who read or reviewed last time. I'd like to welcome you to message me or send a review letting me know what you think – good, bad, or indifferent, I love to hear your feedback and try to improve! **

* * *

The meat freezer was a large, grey affair with walls that echoed like a morgue and a smell of disinfectant and dust strong enough to make you queasy. All that aside, however, it was the perfect shape and size for a shooting range, just as Mosi had said. Over the past week Eames had almost learned to like it down in the basement. At least there you couldn't hear the noise upstairs.

The work had started smoothly enough, everyone had their own projects to attend to, their own problems to sort out. Everyone stayed out of everyone else's way, Arthur and Mosi more pointedly than the others. But as time dragged on, the snide passing remarks had turned to sentence-long critiques, which had turned into personal and professional criticism, which had, by this time, turned into full blown, knock-down, drag-out verbal boxing matches that ended, if they ended, with at least one of them shouting at the other.

It was worse than coming home for Christmas.

But in the freezer all was silence. Or, when he or another member of the team was practicing, all was loud reverberating noise, which was quite the improvement over the continual bickering.

Eames was considering how he was going to survive several more weeks of this, absentmindedly watching Ariadne shoot a magnum into a sawdust target he had constructed.

"How was that?"

He barely glanced at her as he answered, rubbing a finger across his bottom lip contemplatively. "Better, but you're still jerking your wrist. Try the smaller one."

With a sigh, Ariadne walked over towards the table on which he was perched, reaching behind him for the glock, slipping the clip into the butt fluidly. Eames didn't move; feet propped up on the chair, back hunched over sullenly. "Eames?"

"Yeah?"

"How well do you know Mosi?"

From the corner of his eye he watched her walk back to the firing line and take her stance. "Better than most I expect, why?"

Ariadne flicked off the safety, pulling the slide back until it clicked to load the bullet into the chamber. "Well, I am doing this job with her." She fired off one shot. "A job that is extremely dangerous." And another. "A job with high stakes." She fired a last round, before putting the safety back on and walking back towards Eames. "And I hardly know her."

Eames smiled, the soft, slightly condescending smile he used when people where asking questions he didn't like. She wondered briefly if he knew that he did that. "That bothers you, doesn't it?" He leaned in towards her, arm resting lightly on his leg. "You hardly know me."

Ariadne stopped walking long enough to fix him with an amused smile at the foolish response. "No offense, but I wouldn't trust you to look after my bus fare, let alone lead me through an extraction."

"Ouch." If he was really hurt, it didn't register on his body. He paused a moment before nodding. "But understandable."

"I mean," Ariadne pushed the release button, letting the cartridge fall into her hand. "Why is she doing this? Who is she? Where does she come from? I know she worked with Arthur and Cobb awhile back…"

"Oh I've known her a lot longer than that." He felt her expectant eyes on his face and realized he had unintentionally opened up an avenue for conversation on the topic. Meeting her eyes quickly, he added, "I was doing a job with her father – that's how we met."

Ariadne leaned against the table, her free hand resting on her hip. "How long ago was that?"

Eames shrugged. "Nine, ten years ago?"

Ariadne considered this, shifting so she was resting more comfortably against the wood, settling in for a long conversation. "Wow. So you must know her pretty well. "

"Yeah, we have a bit of history between us." He pointed to a gun across the table. "Try the revolver."

She looked at him from under stilted brow, her eyes tracing the patch from him to the gun and back again. "What, that's all I get?"

Now it was Eames' turn to sigh. "Listen, I already told you – Mo doesn't like talking about herself: past or present. And she'd be more than a little tetchy if I did it for her, alright?" He reached over and grabbed the silver revolver himself, proffering it to her. "You want to know more, ask Mo." He smiled, this time his real smile. "She won't tell you, but you can ask."

Ariadne pushed her bangs out of her face, the way she did when she was annoyed someone wasn't giving her the answers that she wanted. As she walked away with the gun, he wondered briefly if she knew she did that. It was only a thought though and his thoughts had been fleeting of late. As Ariadne loaded cartridges into her gun, Eames' thoughts strayed back to the girl he had met on that sweltering summer night in Cape Town.

He remembered sitting on the bottom floor of a run-down, three story house on the outskirts of Bo-Kaap, one of the less reputable areas of the city. The air in the living room was stuffy and hot, a situation only exacerbated by the cloud of cigar smoke around the table. That was always the first thing he remembered about Lyle Doust. The sweet, sickly smell of the cheap cigars he smoked seemed to constantly surrounding him. If he wasn't smoking one actively, one was always to be found in a nearby ash tray, smoldering away.

It was his third time meeting with this particular group. Even though Lyle was only the chemist, the others seemed to respect him the most, deferring to his advice and judgment. Even Jace, the extractor of the team, would modify his plans if Lyle said the word.

Eames leaned back in his chair, nursing his bottle of watery beer with a bored expression. They were all talking logistics now: how to get the mark, when and where. It was all of little concern to him. He drew a hand through his chestnut colored hair, looking around at the over-anxious faces around him and feeling keenly that he was playing well below his level. Still, he was just starting out in the Extraction business and building a reputation with smaller jobs was the only way he'd ever get to the big leagues. This time they were trying to extract the location of certain illegal merchandise from one thuggish crime lord to give to another. Hardly the caliber of clients he hoped to be working for in the future.

He was interrupted from this despairing train of thought by the slamming of the front door. His attention neatly redirected by the sudden sound, he looked up to find the rest of the men just as surprised as he was, eyes wide and some with hands on their pistols.

The sound of running footsteps thundered down the hardwood hallway. From just behind the door frame he heard a high-pitched young voice cry out, "Toppie!" The person it belonged to rounded the corner, holding onto the frame with one hand as she pivoted on the ball of her foot, long, straight black hair sweeping over the back-pack strap on her shoulder. "Do you think you coul–" The girl's soft blue eyes widened slightly as she took in the array of men in front of her. "Oh."

Lyle smiled, the lines around his lips and eyes deepening ever so slightly into his bronzed skin. "Howzit, young one?" He leaned forward; examining the wrist watch he had taken off and laid flat onto the table. "You're home early aren't you?"

Her rigid frame relaxed, her hand releasing the door frame as she leaned her full body weight against it. A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she hid it with an annoyed clearing of her throat. "Ja-nee. It's after five."

If Lyle took offense at her rolled eyes and bored stare, he didn't show it, leaning back in his chair to turn on the fan behind him. "Ah, yebo. You need something?"

The girl cast a quick self-conscious gaze over the rest of the bodies in the room, further loosening her washed-out green tie. "I was just wondering if you could look over some equations with me."

Lyle's smile widened and he tapped out a short beat against the table. "Yebo, stekkie – why don't you wait upstairs, I'll be up now now."

She nodded, her pleated green skirt flaring as she turned away quickly. They could hear her as she jogged up the stairs, the thick soles of her patent shoes clattering as she went. A door opened and closed with a thud. Lyle waited a moment before rising, shaking his blonde hair as he excused himself.

They watched him walk out of the room, each silent until they again heard the sound of the door upstairs opening and closing and, more interestingly, locking.

There was a moment of silence and stillness before Eames leaned forward, placing his cigarette in the nearest ashtray. "Who was that?"

Mason, the Point Man, took a swig from his beer, watching Eames with surprise. "Mosi? She's the old man's little girl!"

"His daughter?" Eames rubbed the poker chip in his pocket, his eyes drifting upward towards the ceiling. "I didn't know he had one."

Jace leaned back in his chair, his legs sprawled out underneath the table, a smooth, toothy smile sliding over his face as he wiped greasy hands on the bottom of his wife beater. "A sweet little thing she is too, nè? Wouldn't mind meeting her in a dark alleyway…"

Mason snorted out a laugh, standing up and moving towards the fridge in the kitchen across from them. "Lyle would eat you alive, Jace. You know he doesn't like anyone getting near his property."

Jace's smile only widened. He tipped his head over the back of the chair, shouting back at Mason as he left the room. "Yeah – but what a way to go, am I right?"

Eames looked up at him from under his brow, impressed with the way he hid his grimace. "Isn't she a little young for you, Jace?"

Jace lifted his hands in a shrug. "She looked all grown up from here."

From the kitchen, Mason laughed. Eames only nodded stiffly, feeling a distinctive need for fresh air – a need that would not be met until far later in the evening. The planning and prep work had devolved in swapping job stories and general slovenly drunkenness. He wandered out into the courtyard beside the house. The Doust residence was the end of a u-shaped configuration of houses, the three buildings hosting a small cobbled space that opened out onto the street.

The night was finally beginning to cool, a soft breeze stirring the stale air. He lit a cigarette as he walked out towards the street, throwing the used match away from him carelessly as he breathed in the sweet nicotine and let it start to sooth the annoyance out of his bones.

"Those things'll kill you, you know."

He halted his meandering steps and glanced behind him. There was no one, the wind playing with the green leaves on the tree in the center of the yard, encircled by chipped tile and stone. Seeing no one behind him, he walked slowly towards the street, peeking around the corner of the building.

"You're new, aren't you?"

He flicked the cigarette away from him, turning back into the courtyard.

There was still no one there.

Still unfazed, Eames walked further into the cobbled space, hands resting lazily in his pockets. "Depends, who's asking?"

A rustling from the tree next to him, drew his gaze upward. It was a sickly little plant, its upper branches barely reaching the second floor of the apartment. So when a lanky body dropped from its branches, hands catching the lowest bough, Eames found himself eye-level with someone's abdomen. He took a step back and caught eyes with the young girl he'd seen earlier.

She swung there, a smile sitting lopsidedly on her face. "I haven't seen you around here before."

Eames folded his arms over his chest, meeting her gaze evenly. "I haven't been round here before." He noted that she had changed out of her ruffled school uniform and into form hugging flare jeans and a loose black t-shirt. "What's your name, love?"

The girl dropped out with thud, rolling her shoulder. "Mosi Doust."

"Ah." Eames walked around her slowly, rubbing his lower lip thoughtfully. "So you really are Lyle's daughter."

Mosi turned round slowly, keeping her eyes on his face. "Was there ever a doubt?"

"Well, Lyle never mentioned you before."

She crossed her arms behind her back, looking coyly up at him through her eyelashes. "He likes to keep me a bit close to the vest." Mosi leaned in, eyebrows dancing over her light grey eyes happily. "I'm like his secret weapon." She relaxed out of her playful stance, slipping her hands into her back pockets and rocking back on her heels. "Besides, he doesn't want fellows like you getting any ideas." She nodded seriously. "The criminal element, you understand."

"Completely." Eames leaned against the tree, tossing his head in the direction of the street. "Your mum live somewhere else in town?" Her smile shrunk perceptively, lips twitching slightly as if she were about to speak, muscle spasms that eventually worked themselves out in a high shoulder shrug. He squinted at her, hands digging themselves into his pockets. "Well what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't know." Mosi pivoted her upper body back and forth rhythmically. "Don't know who she is, see? Got left with Da back when I was naught but a bundle in a basket."

Eames opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly. The intentionally wide eyed look the teenager was treating him to made him as uncomfortable as he imagined she'd hoped it would. His hand came up to his neck, unbuttoning and re-buttoning the top button. "Didn't he ever tell you about her?"

"Don't think he likes to talk about it." She reached up suddenly, grabbing one of the flexible branches above her head and pulling herself up on it. "Besides! We've been hundreds on our own. Had loads of fun, an adventure round ever corner."

He walked forward slowly, holding eye contact pointedly. "As your old man's 'secret weapon'?" She didn't respond, simply letting herself drop before leaning up against the trunk. "He doesn't…let you come in on jobs, does he?" Her head fell to one side, long black locks brushing her bare shoulder. Eames reached forward, pushing the hair back behind her. "Aren't you a little young?"

Her brow wrinkled, a barely concealed sneer bringing color back to her face as she scoffed. "I'm sixteen, you know. And I've been doing it a lot longer than that."

Eames leaned against the tree trunk, one hand outstretched in front of him, his smile widening at her pride. "Are you any good?"

Mosi laughed quietly from behind a toothy smile of her own, leaning forward slightly. It was a low, rolling chuckle that sounded exotic coming from a person of her age and stature "I've picked up a few things, Mr…" She flicked open his worn leather wallet, glancing down at the license inside it. "Eames."

Eames stood up quickly, patting his pockets automatically, before recognizing that the moment seconds early had been nothing more than a distraction. Mosi merely smiled up at him, holding the wallet out in front of her expectantly. He took it from her with all the glare he could muster, which even he had to admit was lukewarm at best.

She moved back towards the house, arms tucked coyly behind her back as she attempted to hide her smile. "So what exactly do you do, Mr. Eames? Or do you prefer –"

"Just Eames will do fine." Eames replaced the wallet, this time in his jacket pocket. "And I do a little bit of everything – lately though, I'm a thief and a forger."

Mosi bit her lower lip, shaking her head from side to side and staring at her shoes. "No, no, no - Da doesn't like to bring in people he doesn't know and he knows plenty of thieves – and he doesn't need a forger." She looked back up at him from under her long bangs, squinting in the streetlamp light. "No, I meant what do you do here? With my father. In the dream."

Eames rested his back against the tree, shrugging as he folded his hands in front of him. "Like I said: I'm a forger. I can sort of…be other people."

Her face lit up, the first genuine expression of excitement he had seen from her endearing in its simplicity. "Woes and mal!" She stepped towards him animatedly. "Will you teach me?"

It was the last of several times he had been taken aback by her during this conversation and Eames was starting to get tired of it. "What?"

Mosi grabbed onto one of his lapels playfully. "Come on! Teach me how to do that."

"I'm not –" He brushed her hand away from his suit jacket, utterly befuddled. "I'm not teaching you."

The smile was immediately subsumed into a look of disappointed confusion. "Why not?"

"You're a child."

Mosi shook her head brightly, the smile returning as she placed a hand on her shoulder. "I already told you:" She stood up on the tips of her toes and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I'm sixteen!"

As abruptly as she had entered, she exited, spinning back round to face the house, a jump in her step as she trotted in. "You can teach me later though, I've got some homework that's due tomorrow." Waving her hand behind her, she entered the sliding glass door that lead through to the kitchen. "Goodnight, Eames!"

When Mosi had disappeared from sight, Eames' gaze stayed fixed on the door, his hands acting on their own accord as they fumbled around in his pockets for a cigarette and a match. After a few moments he began to shake his head, chuckling quietly to himself and suddenly feeling much more optimistic about the challenge offered in this particular job.

"Eames!"

He came abruptly back to himself, the smell of the meat locker acrid in his nostrils. Ariadne stood in front of him, an empty revolver held listlessly in one hand. She smirked when his eyes met hers. "You still with us?" Eames only nodded. "How'd I do?"

It took him a moment to register what she meant by the question, eyes trailing apathetically from her to the newly ventilated target. At last he grasped it and he stood up suddenly, feeling the need for immediate blood circulation. "Great! Fine, fine, you did very well." He shook himself, sliding his hands into his pockets and making a beeline for the door. "Come on, I think the air down here is getting to me." Ariadne shrugged, laying the gun down carefully before following the forger back up the stairs.

* * *

**Slang 101**

1. Toppie - Dad, Daddie

2. Howzit - How is it going?

3. Young one - Child, little one

4. Ja-ne - Yes-no. Equivalent of sort of, kind of

5. Yebo - I see, yes.

6. Stekkie - Little girl

7. Now now - Literally in a few moments, presently

8. Ne - Don't you think

9. Hundreds - Great, fantastic

10. Woes and Mal - No kidding! Wicked!


End file.
